Ward 4C
by RoadToBrewie
Summary: After eight years of hiding from his past, when Mr Mackey is discovered to be the old school counsellor to a group of teenagers that were former students of South Park Elementary, he is brought back to Park County by the strange request of two doctors in the hopes of uncovering the mystery behind the unusual cases of Ward 4C. Rated T for possible disturbing themes and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own South Park nor any of the characters from the show. All credit to this fine show goes to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. However, the story idea is mine and I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 **Log Entry #1**  
Date: _Sunday, May 29_ _th_ _2022_

As per the request of Dr Amy Fester and Dr Waylon Benson, I've agreed to keep a log of my time spent with Ward 4C of the Park County Mental Facility. I've also agreed to keep all information on this subject completely confidential due to the sensitive nature of this case, my notes and log entries are only permitted to be viewed by the aforementioned doctors, as well as myself and any other third parties they see as necessary to reach out to for assistance.

My task is to help Dr Fester and Dr Benson determine the cause of the unusually sudden – and simultaneous – outbreak of mental illnesses amongst the fourteen patients of Ward 4C. Though I'm not technically qualified nor sufficiently learned in this particular area, they've determined that my prior experiences with the patients may be useful, and what counselling knowledge and credentials I possess make me the most appropriate person to assist them from the patients' past.

It has been eight years since I last laid eyes on any of these ex-students, I find this more than enough of a reason for me to be ill-suited for this job but the doctors disagree despite my objections. I am not sure what to expect when I arrive, I've yet to read their files and am unaware of anything that has happened since I left South Park. I've received very little information and will be starting my time with Ward 4C tomorrow, hopefully I shall be updated then as I'm not even aware of which former students have been admitted to the hospital. As I conclude this first log entry I continue to question myself as to why I agreed to this job, I am increasingly doubtful but undeniably curious of what I'm to be faced with when I enter the confines of the facility.

The only thing I am sure of at this moment is that these patients, former students at South Park Elementary, are not going to be an easy job considering the colourful history of my hometown.

-Counsellor Mackey

* * *

 _Monday, May 30_ _th_  
 _8:50am_

"Now, Mr Mackey, we want to thank you for all your patience with us. We understand that it hasn't been easy for you so far, we've asked so much of you already and haven't given you much information." Dr Fester began in a well-rehearsed, monotonously professional tone as she assembled a large stack of files in front of her.

Her small, grey eyes only ever flickered up to meet his once as she piled the last of the paperwork together, not that it bothered him all too much. Mr Mackey hadn't been a sociable man in years, preferring his own company and doing his best to avoid all unnecessary interaction with anyone other than his own reflection. In fact, he found doctors the most intolerable and yet he'd agreed to work in a building full of them and their unstable patients, he shook his head as he wondered once again why he'd to the doctors' request.

"Well that's no problem, Doctor, mkay. I'm just glad to be able to help." Mr Mackey answered as the older woman slid the assortment of medical files and paperwork across the metallic desk, a fancy blue pen atop the yellow Manilla folder with _**Ward 4C**_ printed on it in bold, black ink.

They were sitting in the small, cramped office of Dr Amy Fester, head of the Park County Mental Facility. Mr Mackey had asked why someone in her position would be forced into such a small room when he'd first met her, the doctor claimed it was just her preference to work in more confined spaces and immediately dove into her mountain of files as he took a seat. Mr Mackey took a deep breath as he began signing paper after paper, his eyes periodically glimpsing up towards Dr Fester who was typing away at her computer. As soon as he was finished he placed the pen back on top of the folder and leant backwards in his chair, readjusted his glasses then clasped his hands together in his lap.

"Mkay, so what is it you wanted me to do exactly?" Mr Mackey asked, curious as to why he'd only received small amounts of information considering how urgent they'd made the matter over the phone. Dr Fester looked at him and turned away from her computer, she frowned and shook her head, rubbing her tired eyes before looking at the counsellor.

"I apologise, Mr Mackey, I honestly thought I'd already gone into more detail about this. I've been working such long hours lately it seems I can hardly remember my own name at times." She chuckled lightly, she then pulled the _**Ward 4C**_ folder off of the top of the pile and opened it. After half a minute of flipping through the file, scanning it rapidly with eyes obviously accustomed to the words printed on the papers within, Dr Fester spoke up again.

"How much do you know so far about Ward 4C?"

"I know that there's fourteen patients, all former students of Herbert Garrison's fourth grade class at South Park Elementary. They are all suffering from serious mental illnesses, all of them were admitted to the hospital in a span of one week, and that they're known as a particularly disturbing group amongst the hospital staff. Dr Benson and yourself want my help to determine the cause of this sudden outbreak, as well as attempt to use me to reach them on a more personal level, merely on the grounds I was their former school counsellor despite the fact I left that town eight years ago." Mr Mackey answered, making no effort to hide is slight annoyance.

"Okay, that seems about right… Now, I suppose it's about time to fill you in," Dr Fester started again, ignoring the counsellor's attitude.

"There was a reason you were kept in the dark until now and that was because of the nature of this case; it isn't like anything any doctor in this place has dealt with before nor heard of. We're aware of the unusual events that have taken place in South Park over the past twenty-or-so years and we've had our fair share of patients come and go because of these events; so don't think we're not taking them into account.

"What our biggest issue is so far with these patients is that we can't figure out what caused fifteen perfectly normal teenagers – give or take a few anxiety issues and minor personality disorders here and there – to all of a sudden develop such severe conditions, and as if that wasn't strange enough they all developed them within the span of one week! Obviously, we couldn't just ignore the fact they all went to school together, have been raised together and come from a town most of Colorado makes an effort to avoid.

"Why was it these specific children, and why does everything about this case get stranger and stranger the more we think we're making progress?" Dr Fester stopped to take a breath and reached for her half-empty cup of coffee, he could hear the strain in her voice and felt somewhat guilty for the attitude he'd had towards her since arriving at the hospital

Dr Fester finished the remaining contents of her coffee cup then stood up and poured a fresh batch of the strong, bitter drink into her cup; the coffee maker situated in the corner of her office making a sick clunking noise as it worked. She offered a cup to Mr Mackey and after his polite decline, she sat back in her chair and continued on after another surprisingly large mouthful of her drink.

"You're probably asking yourself _"Why would you come to me, why not go to another person from South Park for help?"_ , right? I'll tell you why we came to you: There's no one else left to help us. Now, don't get me wrong, you're a lot more suited to this job than anyone else we've asked for assistance, but after learning you'd moved from South Park eight years ago, we assumed you wouldn't know what had happened, as well as your information on the patients being out of date and limited. We tried going to the parents and they all refused to answer any questions, any teacher that had once dealt with even one of one of these students hangs up on us or slams the door as soon as they find out about the people we're talking about. A bit strange, don't you think?"

Mr Mackey nods, listening intently to the doctor.

"For some reason absolutely no one wants anything to do with these kids, but we need to know what happened to them if we're going to make any progress. This is why we need you and why we've deprived you of so much information, we need someone to help but we were afraid that just like everyone else you'd decline and we'd be left stuck again. I understand how this may seem to you, but to help fifteen teenagers with their whole lives ahead of them, wouldn't you do the same?"

"Mkay… This is all very strange, Doctor-" Mr Mackey began, slightly taken aback by the avalanche of information.

"Please, call me Amy."

"-Mkay, Amy. South Park has always been a unusual place, but this doesn't sound like the town I knew at all. I'm going to do what I can to help you, I'm hesitant but I'm intrigued, and if I'm really your last resort then I guess it would be a bit cold-hearted of me to deny your request." Mr Mackey said, not sure whether he was trying to convince himself or the doctor of his dedication. "Plus, I've already come this far, right?"

"Good, I'm glad to hear that you're on-board." Amy smiled brightly. "We're also hoping a familiar face from their past may help in their recovery as well, especially since it would be a person that hasn't outright denied any form of relationship with them. Now, as you can see there's plenty of reading ahead of you before we get started, so if you have any other questions go ahead and ask them now."

"Just one, mkay. You said there was fifteen patients, I thought there was only fourteen. Was another one admitted since you first talked to me?" He asked as he gather the large pile of information, Dr Fester shook her head and leant across the desk, handing him the final folder.

"Only fourteen were students at South Park Elementary, one of them didn't join the others until high school so it is very likely you've never met him before." Amy explained, once again standing up from her seat. She walked towards the door quickly as he followed, delicately balancing the tower of papers.

"There's a list of names, diagnoses and room numbers as well as general notes about the entire group and their interactions in the folder that says _**Ward 4C**_. For more information on each patient you can go through their individual profiles which I've also given you, there are also several papers and booklets about the illnesses that they've each been diagnosed with. You should be prepared for pretty much anything and everything."

"Mkay, thank you, Doctor. I'll get started as soon as possible, looks as if I've got plenty of reading to do already." Mr Mackey murmured, overwhelmed by the amount of information he'd been handed and was now expected to assimilate.

"I'm going to take you through to the doctor's lounge where you can begin, Dr Benson will come meet you around twelve o'clock to take you to meet your new patients. Since you've only got a couple hours to get through all that, I suggest reading all the patient files and skimming through the general information, most of what you need to know is there."

Dr Fester lead the large-headed counsellor to the doctor's lounge and helped him set up on a table in the far corner of the room, she then left him alone as he began sorting through the assortment of material. Mr Mackey decided to begin with the _**Ward 4C**_ folder, he opened it and on top of the pile of papers within was a list of every patient, their room numbers, ages and admittance dates.

 ** _Broflovski, Kyle:_** _W4C-01A...19...09-03-2021_

 ** _Black, Token:_** _W4C-07A...19...09-03-2021_

 ** _Cartman, Eric:_** _W4C-08A...18...09-07-2021_

 ** _DeLorne, Christophe:_** _W4C-05A...18...09-01-2021_

 ** _Donovan, Clyde:_** _W4C-03A...18...09-05-2021_

 ** _Marsh, Stanley:_** _W4C-01B...18...09-03-2021_

 ** _McCormick, Kenneth:_** _W4C-04A...19...09-07-2021_

 ** _Stevens, Bebe:_** _W4C-02A...19...09-01-2021_

 ** _Stotch, Leopold:_** _W4C-04B...18...09-01-2021_

 ** _Testaburger, Wendy:_** _W4C-02B...18...09-04-2021_

 ** _Tucker, Craig:_** _W4C-03B...19...09-05-2021_

 ** _Turner, Heidi:_** _W4C-06A...18...09-07-2021_

 ** _Tweak, Tweek:_** _W4C-05B...18...09-06-2021_

 ** _Tyler, Nichole:_** _W4C-06B...18...09-07-2021_

 ** _Valmer, James:_** _W4C-07B...19...09-06-2021_

This is why he'd truly come back. He was curious. What could have gone so wrong with these children that two doctors from North Park were willing to dig up the name of a counsellor that hadn't stepped foot in South Park in nearly nine years? The curiosity ate away at him and that exhausting ache for the twisted town he'd called home for so long didn't make it too hard for him to accept the job.

Mr Mackey knew that since he'd left that he'd changed, and could feel the town calling him and reaching out to him with long, invisible limbs. And he knew that no matter how bad he had it elsewhere, it would be bad idea to go back no matter how green the grass seemed in South Park at the time. But his curiosity overwhelmed his immense anxiety and crushed what self-control he had left keeping him away.

He knew then and he knew it as he read through the list of names lying on the table before him. He should've never come back, but as everyone from Park County knows: South Park never takes no for an answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own South Park nor any of the characters from the show. All credit to this fine show goes to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. However, the story idea is mine and I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 _Monday, May 30_ _th_  
 _12:35pm_

Mr Mackey was stunned and somewhat appalled as he stared blankly into the messily strewn pages on the table before him. He'd read through the entire _**Ward 4C**_ folder from cover to cover, as well as the diagnoses of each patient and more than half the personal files from start to finish. His eyes stung from strain and his head was pounding loudly with large thumps of pain against his temples as the words he'd spent the past three hours reading sunk into his brain. He grasped the sides of his head and took a deep breath, the severity of the situation he was in suddenly washing over him and making him realise what an enormous job he'd agreed to take on. He couldn't believe that all these teenagers, ones he'd once taught and counselled as children, could have developed such serious disorders and become the mentally-tortured people now baffling and terrifying doctors and nurses around the entire facility.

He'd always had a feeling that a few of them weren't going to grow up to be the typical, well-adjusted adults, but never imagined that such an incredibly unimaginable thing could happen to even one of them – let alone fifteen. It was no matter that they were from the most outrageous town on the planet, for such an impossibly incredulous thing to happen was beyond even South Park's reach of the bizarre and nonsensically strange.

"This can't be possible. Not even for South Park." He murmured to himself grimly.

Mr Mackey shook his head with a heavy sigh and began to reorganise the papers lying askew on the desk, placing each sheet of paper neatly within the folders they belonged to with an almost obsessive preciseness. Once he'd tidied each file, every individual page inside perfectly aligned with an almost robotic accuracy, Mr Mackey was shocked out of his quiet concentration by a soft, husky voice.

"Mr Mackey I presume?"

"Uh yeah, that's me." Mr Mackey confirmed as he stood from his seat, shaking the hand of a tall, dark-haired man in a long, white lab coat. "Mkay, and you are?"

"Doctor Waylon Benson," He smiled, showing off an impressive set of bright, white teeth. "Nice to finally meet you, Mr Mackey. I understand you were the school counsellor for all the patients in Ward 4C."

"Yes, I was for most of them back in the third and fourth grade. I've never met Christophe DeLorne though, as you would know, I'd already left South Park before he joined the others." Mr Mackey began, speaking rapidly as he felt a wave of anxiety wash over him unexpectedly. "I've read most of the files and am pretty up to date with what's going on in Ward 4C, I'm ready to head over and see them when you are, mkay?"

Mr Mackey looked at the man standing before him, Dr Benson's towering height intimidating him immensely; it wasn't as if he were a short man to begin with and yet this handsome medical professional towered over him like a behemoth. Mr Mackey could practically hear the pick-up lines that would be thrown his way if the attractive doctor ever happened to walk into a bar crawling with pretty, young women infused with alcoholic confidence. The tall doctor chuckled and patted Mackey on the back friendlily, amused by the counsellor's uneasy enthusiasm.

"No need to be in such a rush, I was just gonna grab some lunch before we start. Come and join me, our cafeteria may not be top of the line but Doris and Helen can make some mean egg salad sandwiches!" Dr Benson laughed warmly, obviously amused by a joke Mr Mackey had failed to pick up. As his stomach issued a hungry growl, its increasing need for sustenance finally being realised, he nodded and agreed to the doctor's offer, smiling back at his new colleague.

"I've just got to get my stuff together, mkay?" said Mr Mackey, already piling his assortment of folders on top of each other.

"Oh yeah, don't worry about it. We've got a storage locker being organised for you, you're going to be spending a fair amount of time in this room, as well as the ward, so we figured you may as well have somewhere to put your stuff. Just put everything in that cupboard over there for now, I'll have someone transfer it to your locker by the end of the day." Mr Mackey nodded again, looking in the direction that Dr Benson was pointing. "There's a box with your name on it in there already."

Once Mr Mackey had packed all the files and paperwork into the box with his name scribbled on the side, he and Dr Benson headed to the cafeteria. Their small journey was filled with quiet, casual conversation, which – to Mr Mackey's delight – helped ease his nerves, almost allowing him to forget that he was in a building filled with people that frightened him beyond his own comprehension. Arriving in the cafeteria, they both grabbed an egg salad sandwich each, a cup of coffee, and then sat down at a table situated away from the crowded area of the room.

"So, Mackey, what do you think of the sandwich? Was I right or was I right, hm?" Benson joked warmly, taking another bite out of his food.

"Certainly is delicious, mkay." He answered, trying carefully to not spit crumbs all over the table as he spoke.

"Well if you like that I'm sure you'd love Doris' potato salad too, she'd got way with food that lady." The doctor smiled, clearly enjoying his meal.

"Dr Benson-"

"Please, call me Benny. I'm not one for formalities and Waylon is something you do from mountaintops."

"Sure, uh... Benny, mkay, I noticed this facility isn't exactly designed in the typical hospital-like manner. Why is that?" asked Mr Mackey with genuine curiosity, it was a question he'd meaning to inquire about since his arrival but had chosen to spare Dr Fester of. He reached for his cup of coffee and took a sip, cringing at the bitter taste as Benson began to speak.

"Well, every floor of this place is set up in a specific way which is mean to resemble a certain environment which we've deemed is the most appropriate for each patient. During the final review of a patient's case, based on the observations and recommendations of those who've performed the tests and analyses, a set few of us will sit down together and discuss what we think is the best kind of treatment for them. One of things we figure out is which environment is best suited to them, in the case of the patients in Ward 4C – it's a school. We've other themes set up such as a traditional family home, a library, a church and so on. There's a floor below us that practically an arboretum with rooms!

"This facility was specifically designed to try a different method of therapy, and while a lot of what we're doing is still technically experimental, we've had some very interesting, and positive, results which has led to a few approving nods from some higher-ups in the medical profession." Dr Benson explained with clear, calm words, his cheery tone never faltering.

"This place is obviously not meant for everyone though, I can see quite a few ways how this kind of approach may not work on some people." Mr Mackey noted after another swallow of his sandwich.

"We've had a fair few cases where the familiar-looking surroundings have helped make doctors and nurses seem more trustworthy to patients, I was sceptical of the idea at first too but we've had surprising amounts of success. It calms them knowing they're not trapped inside some big, scary hospital and somewhere a bit more personable…" Dr Benson paused momentarily, reaching for his drink. "It is true though that not all people are meant for this facility. We may have had our share of triumphs but our failures can't be forgotten or disregarded either, unfortunately some patients have reacted so negatively that we've had to pass them onto other hospitals with the hopes that they can reverse some of the damage that was unknowingly done."

"That sounds terrible, but I suppose whenever new advancements are being made in any particular area that there is going to be some setbacks – it just seems as if some more damaging and upsetting ones have taken place here." Mr Mackey said gently, uncomfortable with the darker turn their conversation had taken. "I must ask though, don't some of the surroundings pose as security risks? I mean this is a building meant to contain those seen as unfit for normal society."

"We're careful that way, we don't place any high risk patients in places like the arboretum floor where they can potentially really hurt themselves or others. Then again we're not for the worst of the worst cases, we're more for... the special ones. We handle patients that require a mix of proper medical and therapeutic approaches as well as a variety of others, as unprofessional as this may sound to some people – sometimes it's the soul that needs to be healed more so than the mind, and we're trying to supply bandages for both." Benny concluded, popping the final bite of his food in his mouth.

"You sure know how to tickle someone's curiosity, this place definitely sounds like it's going to be interesting." Mr Mackey commented with a slight smile.

"You have a gift for understatement, Mackey. Interesting doesn't even scratch the surface."

* * *

 _Monday, May 30_ _th_  
 _1:10pm_

After finishing their lunch, Mr Mackey and Dr Benson chatted lightly as they made their way to Ward 4C. The instant they arrived, the counsellor felt himself overcome with apprehension and nervousness, his mind going crazy with horrid imaginings of what might happen to him the moment he passed through the large doors that were currently separating himself and the fifteen teenagers he'd agreed to help. Despite having read up on much of the information he'd been given, and having the rest roughly filled in by Dr Benson, he couldn't help but feel that he wasn't prepared for what was waiting and that by the end of the day he'd have a headache the size of Colorado.

"Ready to go in? If anything goes wrong just remember there's a big, red button to the right of the doors and within seconds we'll have nurses run in to help get the situation under control. There's also video cameras covering every inch of the ward so they'll be able to help us maybe before we even know we needed it. I'm not saying that this necessarily is going to happen, but I want you prepared just in case. With patients like these, you just never know what to expect." Dr Benson reassured in a failed attempt to calm Mr Mackey's obvious nerves, he then flashed the counsellor another of his impressive grins and with a nod of confirmation, the doctor entered the security code that permitted the giant doors to open.

Ward 4C didn't look anything like what Mr Mackey had pictured, the room he'd originally seen in his mind resembled nothing of the one he was now standing in. He'd assumed it would look more like a customised emergency room – bland, crowded and tragically impersonal. Instead, it looked like a classroom that could blend in easily with any elementary school around the country, even down to the cluttered chalkboard that was secured to one of the walls.

The walls of the faux classroom were riddled with messy crayon drawings, various papers and pictures stuck on messily with sticky tape, leaving the pale yellow wallpaper behind it nearly impossible to see. Three tables lined the far-right wall of the room, they were littered with clusters of neatly organised crayons, books and other harmless stationary; each group of objects placed together in near-perfect triangles in groups of three. Beneath each table was a small pyramid of severed stuffed toys; the pyramid in the centre was slightly larger than the two on either side of it and had been constructed with the heads of a number of plush animals, the bodies having been used to make the two smaller structures.

Mr Mackey frowned at the disturbing image and looked away quickly, the image made him uncomfortable and for the first time since stepping into the facility, he felt his stomach stir uneasily and his palms begin to sweat as he realised that there was no longer any turning back; he'd stepped inside the lair of the bizarre and it was his difficult job to tether fifteen teenagers to him and pull them out without losing his own mind in the process.

Directly across from the entrance to the ward, an archway in the centre of the opposing wall opened up to a long hallway which led to nine doors that were all marked with the room numbers he recognised from the list he'd read prior. The doors into each room were bulky and metallic, each looking as if they weighed almost twice as much as he did, a small wire-framed window was centred at the top of every door giving whomever chose to look through a partial view of the opposite side.

However, as Mr Mackey stared down the hallway, it was one door in particular that had earlier piqued his curiosity which held his undivided attention.

"Confinement Room?"

"Huh?" Mr Mackey whipped his head towards Dr Benson, having not realised he'd drifted off into thought.

"You were staring at the Confinement Room, I take it you've already read about when we've had to use that room?" questioned Dr Benson, Mr Mackey nodded without tearing his eyes from the room.

Room 09 – The Confinement Room – had its own section within the _**Ward 4C**_ file, and it had been written about in great detail by Dr Fester. It was a padded room, the same kind anyone would think of when you mention a mental hospital, for whenever any of the patients became too violent or dangerous and were forced into a safety jacket. The room had already been used on thirty-seven occasions since the admissions of all fifteen teenagers approximately nine months earlier, one of the ten patients sent to the room held a record of being repeatedly restrained within the room nineteen times – one of these occasions resulting in a nurse being sent to hospital and handing in her resignation.

"I'm going to open the doors to their rooms. You ready for this, Mackey?" Benny asked from behind him. Without Mr Mackey realising, Benny had moved over to the wall where a small pad was placed which allowed doctors and nurses to lock and unlock the doors within Ward 4C, and, if necessary, press the button that signals the nurse station that things had gone wrong and immediate assistance would be required.

"I'm ready." Mr Mackey breathed, feeling a sudden wave nausea hit him as his anxiety hit its peak.

Seconds later, as Dr Benson returned to Mr Mackey's side, a loud screech emitted from the corridor; and before Mr Mackey had a chance to jump from the shock of the unanticipated noise, a figure sprinted out from one of the rooms and towards them at an amazing speed.

"Just stay still, he won't hurt us." Benny said calmly, turning his head to face his new colleague.

The blur of bright, blonde hair circled them over and over, running around them so fast it began to make the counsellor dizzy.

"IT'S ONE-SIXTEEN, BENNY BOY!" The blonde laughed wildly, his pace never slowing as he continued to speed around them. "YOU'RE LATE, YOU'RE LATE, YOU'RE LATE, YOU'RE LATE, YOU'RE LATE!"

"Mr Mackey, you remember Kenny McCormick."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own South Park nor any of the characters from the show. All credit to this fine show goes to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. However, the story idea is mine and I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 _Monday, May 30_ _th_  
 _1:17pm_

Mr Mackey and Dr Benson stood stationary as the sprinting McCormick boy ran circles around them, laughing hysterically as he did. Mr Mackey could see that Kenny had grown a considerable amount since he'd last seen him – though at that time the speeding blonde was only eleven and had been sent to his office for shooting spitballs at other students – and it was obvious that the skinny, long-limbed teenager towered over the counsellor and rivalled the doctor in height.

"He'll stop soon, this is his usual routine." Benny said quietly, watching Kenny as he continued to run. "If you've read his file you'll know what's next so just hold still 'til then."

"I didn't get a chance to read over Kenny's file, mkay, what's going on?" Mr Mackey asked, keeping his voice low and quiet just as the doctor was.

"Kenny is like the greeting party for the ward; he comes out and does his run, and then he'll go down to the end of the corridor as a way to signal the others that it's safe to come out." Dr Benson explained, speaking as if the blonde wasn't there. "From the moment all fifteen were put together in this ward, all these unusual routines and rituals began. Before, each of them had their own obsessions, fixations and so on, but then we put them all together and it's like they just suddenly clicked together and all their neuroses intertwined. It's as if they've been brainwashed and all it took to initiate their subconscious programming was for them to all be put in the same room."

"So why not just separate them? Try and see what happens when you divide them up, maybe they'd respond better to their treatments." Mr Mackey inquired.

"We did, and one nurse had to have stitches after that incident. They may be neurotic together but tearing them apart only produces a much more unstable state in each of them."

Kenny began to slow down, now only jogging around them and allowing Mr Mackey to take a better look at the matured features of the boy he'd once taught and counselled. Kenny then came to a sudden halt directly in front of the two older men, smiling wildly from ear to ear as he stared at them with big, blue eyes. He maintained his relentless, and rather creepy in the counsellor's opinion, stare into their eyes for just under a minute before turning around and shooting up the corridor, running all the way to the end just as Dr Benson had said. Then, following the doctor's explanation exactly, room by room each of the faces Mr Mackey had once known as children began to emerge. It didn't even take a minute before the different voices of Ward 4C filled the room, almost all of them screaming or yelling about the new presence.

Mr Mackey felt his head spin as every one of the fifteen teenagers approached him, some more cautiously than others, their eyes focused on him as if he were the main event of a carnival freak show. It was only then as he witnessed their screaming, manic laughter, rapid talking, shaking limbs, trembling lips, and nonsensical mutterings that he realised that the thousands of words he'd read in the assortment of information he was supplied hadn't prepared him anywhere near enough for the circus he'd walked into. He looked to Dr Benson, pleading with his eyes for the doctor to clear the swarm of unstable patients that surrounded him.

Unfortunately, Mr Mackey's expression of anguish went unnoticed as the doctor began scribbling notes at an impressive speed on a clipboard that he'd grabbed from beside the doors. The counsellor turned from him and looked ahead, he had to hold back a gasp of shock as his eyes met the cold, vicious glare of Eric Cartman. The large teenager stood two metres before him and as the infamous troublemaker's stern frown turned into a malicious sneer, Mr Mackey felt panic strike him like a bolt of lightning and began to fear that he'd never walk out of Ward 4C alive.

"Llah Oo Oloff Rortmok!"

Both Mr Mackey and Dr Benson gaped at the words bellowed by Eric Cartman, his voice echoing loudly throughout the ward as each of his fourteen fellow patients froze in their place; every individual grin, frown, cringe, and smirk replaced with a shared expression of eerie blankness, all looking as if their minds were as empty as their faces.

"Oloff Llah Reah Llah!" Cartman and the others chanted together, their words impossibly synchronised. The counsellor watched in awe as the patients formed a circle in the centre of the room, Dr Benson stepped closer to him and kept his voice low and quiet as he spoke.

"It might be a good idea for us to postpone this first meeting, Mackey, why don't you just wait outside? I'll be with you in a minute." Dr Benson suggested firmly, the pit of fear in the counsellor's stomach held no objections. "My clearance code is zero-one-three-one-nineteen-nine-nine, punch it into the control pad, hit the green button, and go."

Mr Mackey nodded and hastily followed Benny's instructions, within seconds he was once again standing outside Ward 4C. His heart was pumping, his palms were clammy and his mind was racing as he felt the first sharp throb of what he could tell was going to be a very agonising and exhausting headache. The panic he'd been trying to suppress finally consumed him; his overwhelming thoughts clouded his mind as every rational thought within him slipped away, he felt his stomach take another queasy turn, his eyes water, and his breath hitch in his throat as he struggled for dominance over his emotions and thoughts.

Then, as his fingernails dug hard into the palms of his wrinkled hands, Mr Mackey's feet began to move on their own.

* * *

 _Monday, May 30_ _th_  
 _1:35pm_

When Dr Benson finally tracked down Mr Mackey, he found him sitting where he'd first met him – at the small, makeshift desk in the doctor's lounge where he was once again flicking through patient files. Benny could tell that the large-headed man wasn't paying much attention to the words printed on the sheets of paper, he seemed to just be staring listlessly into a black and white abyss of madness. He took note of the redness in the older man's face, his slumped and exhausted posture, the tear-stained ends of his sleeves which the counsellor had obviously used to wipe his eyes, and the drained expression of a man who'd no doubt seen more than his fair share of sleepless nights. It was then that the doctor realised that they'd brought in a broken man to do a job that was likely to shatter him beyond repair.

"These files never prepare you for the real thing, do they?" Mr Mackey muttered softly, keeping his eyes down at the papers. "They can tell you what they do, how they act towards each other, what they've been diagnosed with, when they were admitted and even their eating habits if you're so interested in knowing. Then when it comes down to the real thing, they just can't prepare you for the world you're about to step into."

He sighed and looked up at Dr Benson, his eyes tired and his face grim. Benny sat down across from Mr Mackey and let out a deep breath, searching his professionally-trained mind for some comforting words to reassure the counsellor with. But, before the doctor had a chance to open his mouth to speak the few, insufficient words of relief that he'd managed to muster, the older man opposite him spoke up again.

"I haven't seen most of these kids in eight years, I don't know how I'm supposed to be able to help them! And to be honest most of those kids didn't really like me, on occasions I didn't like them either, that's not very professional, is it? But they were disruptive and menacing and... and there's nothing I can do. I barely knew them..." Mr Mackey looked down again, staring at the closed file of Kyle Broflovski and holding his head up with his small hands. "Why do I feel so guilty, so bad about what's happened to them? I didn't send them down this road and yet I can't help but feel like I'm partly responsible for what happens next..."

Benny shook his head, he could feel the worry and desperation emanating from the man, and couldn't help but feel guilty for contributing to bringing him to a place he obviously didn't belong. He'd not known Mr Mackey for even a day yet he felt as if he'd already established some sort of friendship; maybe it was part-sympathy or maybe it was the way that somehow a man who was more than ten years his senior seemed to him like a beaten-down puppy in need of a friend. Dr Benson wasn't sure what it was, but there was something about the poor, sad person he was looking at that made him feel like he was more than just a standard consultant or colleague.

Waylon Benson wasn't the sort of man to treat his friends like patients; he didn't want to serve Mackey the typical doctor responses, theories and judgements, he didn't want to try and convince him to keep up the job for his own benefit, and he didn't want to just ignore what the counsellor was saying. He wanted to help him, listen to him, and provide him with a companionship he felt that Mr Mackey both needed and desired – something he couldn't help but feel the counsellor hadn't been given in a very long time.

"Look, Mackey, I've been working with these kids for the past seven months almost every single day. I wake up every morning, I have a cup of coffee and I drive straight here ready to work with them and do my best to try and help; whether it works or not I can't exactly say but at least they're somewhat stable in this place. This for me, I've got to admit, is something. I've got no wife, no kids, no family at all really, I don't even own a dog or a cat. I've dedicated my entire career to them, I transferred previous patients to other doctors so that they get my main focus, and I spend just about every waking moment thinking about this fucked up case to the point where it could probably be defined as an obsession.

"But, for not one second have I seen in myself the guilt, the despair, the worry, or – to be frank – the shame that you've shown in less than twenty minutes with teenagers you haven't seen in almost a decade. You want to help these kids more than you can see, and I'm not just saying this because we need your help, I'm saying this because _they_ need your help. Who knows, maybe this will give your life some direction and meaning that I can clearly see you're lacking." Dr Benson looked down at the table, searching for something more to say yet knowing that when it came down to it, the only person who could keep Mr Mackey there and stable was the counsellor himself.

"I've not known you long, but I know the look of a sad, lonely man when I see one. It's a look I've seen on my own face a number of times over the years, I'm closing in on forty and I've got nothing but my career going for me which I've dedicated to a case that may be unsolvable… But, y'know, ever since I was assigned to these kids two months after their admissions, I've felt that I'm not living such a gloomy existence, I suppose it's fucked up to benefit like this off of their suffering but it's the truth. They're giving me a purpose more than just what my job requires for me, I feel responsible for them, and in a way I'm grateful towards them for making me feel like I have meaning beyond diagnosing people with disorders I wouldn't wish on an enemy." Benny faced Mr Mackey again, the large-headed man now looking back at him. "I think maybe you could use a little meaning in your life too, don't you?"

"You only met me an hour ago and you're already acting as if you've known me a lifetime, Benny. In most cases that would have me out the door faster than Indian food on a weak stomach, but I think you have a point." The counsellor sighed, pressing his hands to his large head. "I'm not living a great life, to be honest I think it was better in South Park – and that's saying something, mkay."

"This is going to be hard on you, I get that, but where better a place to go through some tough shit than a hospital dedicated to people with issues?" The doctor chuckled, earning a small laugh back from his new colleague.

"I think maybe we should try a new approach with the kids, mkay? Maybe one where I don't get swarmed."

"That's probably a good idea, I can set up individual meetings with them for you if you'd like? Some might have to be in pairs, you read the file so you know that a few of them are inseparable. I can't think of why Amy didn't start you off like that in the first place. It will get you a good look at each of them individually before getting yourself swarmed again, how does that sound?" Dr Benson suggested, glad to see a much more relieved expression on Mr Mackey's face.

"I think I can handle that, and I appreciate the thought, mkay." Mr Mackey thanked, feeling as if a huge weight had been temporarily lifted from his shoulders.

"So how 'bout for now," Dr Benson started, organising the papers and folders on the table. "You head home, catch up on the rest of these files, have a good sleep and we'll start fresh in the morning?"

"I'll be here eight o'clock sharp."

* * *

 **Log Entry #2**  
Date: _Monday, May 30_ _th_ _2022_

Today, for the first time in eight years, I re-encountered faces that troubled me for a good few years at South Park Elementary. I read things about children that once roamed the schoolyard carelessly that disturbed me beyond belief; it is just so hard to comprehend that these kids could have become what they are today. I met with Dr Waylon Benson today, we entered Ward 4C and the usual routine I read about with Kenny McCormick took place. Everything was hectic, as I should have expected, and I felt extremely out of place – a natural reaction, I would say. Eric Cartman, a boy I'll never forget, was staring at me in a way that sent shivers down my spine and back again, it was as if he was looking at me like he wanted to devour me, and then he uttered this strange phrase which was responded to by the other patients with yet another odd saying. I've yet to say anything to Dr Benson or Dr Fester, but that phrase seemed somewhat familiar. I can't seem to remember it now but there was something about it... It was like listening to a nursery rhyme I haven't heard since I was a kindergarten and remembering it is too difficult to even grasp at the tune.

To say the least, it was an experience I'd wish to never relive again yet I feel it was not the most bizarre of what is to come.

I've left the Park County Mental Facility early and will be reading every detail of the information I was given by Dr Fester. I'll be returning tomorrow after Dr Benson has set up individual meetings for each of the patients and myself. I'm only hoping that the extra reading, time for reflection and the more private setting will help prepare me better for the difficult job I've got ahead of me. In all honesty though, I don't think anything can prepare me for what I'm sure to face in the time I'm to spend in Ward 4C.

-Counsellor Mackey


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't own South Park nor any of the characters from the show. All credit to this fine show goes to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. However, the story idea is mine and I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 _Tuesday, May 31_ _st_  
 _7:45am_

Mr Mackey took a deep breath before entering the cafeteria, his eyes scanned the room rapidly as he searched for a familiar face. Dr Benson had invited Mr Mackey to breakfast with himself and Dr Fester, he felt that a more informal start to the day was just what would help him ease into the work more comfortably. When he saw Benson waving at him from across the room, Mr Mackey crossed over and greeted him before taking a seat across from the younger doctor, placing his briefcase down beside him.

"Isn't Dr Fester joining us?" Mackey asked, noting her absence at the small cafeteria table.

"Don't worry, she will be soon," Benny reassured, taking a sip of his coffee. "Knowing Amy, she is probably getting some last-minute paperwork done before getting here. She's never been one for leaving something unfinished, always ready to tackle any problems that come her way; from treating difficult patients to piles of disorganised papers."

"I suppose it's always good to have someone with that attitude around, they get things done." Mr Mackey stated, not at all envious of Dr Fester's work ethic.

"That she does, Mackey, that she does." Dr Benson agreed, his voice trailing off and the table slipping into silence.

As Dr Benson ate his cheese and bacon omelette, barely saying a word, Mr Mackey drifted off into thought. His mind immediately jumped to the big, red emergency button in Ward 4C and how many times it had been used in the past nine months, and while the number of times that button had been pushed was high, it was nothing compared to what had happened to cause a team of nurses to rush into the room to help.

When Mr Mackey had returned to his motel room the afternoon before, he spent hours reading every page of information, doctors' reports, patient files and evaluations. He felt like he, at the very least, knew what he was to expect that day, but not all that much more prepared. Knowing that he'd be beginning fresh with individual interviews was a huge relief to him, although he wasn't overly eager to have to sit in a room with Eric Cartman again. Mackey could remember what a horrid child he was at only ten, and now after reading his file, he couldn't stomach the thought of having to be alone with him. The malicious glare still hadn't left his mind, it was all he could see when he closed his eyes and every it appeared in his head he could feel his heart begin to race almost as fast as it had the day before.

"Well isn't this a chatty table?" Dr Fester remarked playfully, startling Mackey out of his thoughts.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Amy." Benson greeted, placing his knife and fork neatly on his plate. "What kept you held up this time?"

"Paperwork, of course. Lots and lots of paperwork." She smiled, taking a seat next to Dr Benson.

"Of course."

"How are you doing today, Mr Mackey?" Dr Fester asked, sounding a lot less worn out than the last time he'd seen her.

"I'm alright, thank you." Mackey replied, nodding her way. "And you, Doctor?"

"Amy, please, and I'm better than yesterday which you may have noticed. I've been wanting to apologise about that actually, I'd been working a double shift and-"

"No need to apologise, mkay, I understand. Your job isn't an easy one." Mr Mackey dismissed, not requiring an explanation.

"Alright, with all that out the way now..." Dr Fester paused, pulled a few sheets of paper out of her bag and laid them before her on the table. "Shall we proceed with the plan for the day?"

Both Dr Benson and Mr Mackey nodded, they were both slid a piece of paper each displaying the names of the Ward 4C patients, different room numbers and times.

"Is this the order of when the interviews will take place?" Mackey asked, scanning the page held in his hands.

"It is." Dr Fester confirmed, not looking up from her own page. "As you can see you'll be starting with Broflovski and Marsh, I'm sure Benny has told you that some of them are inseparable. Those two are probably the worst for it, and if you've read their files you'll understand why they can't be separated."

"Stanley suffers a series of severe panic attacks which, at their worst, can lead to unconsciousness; Kyle becomes extremely distressed and violent due to immense over-protectiveness of his friend and can become dangerous if antagonised." Mr Mackey stated, he'd paid particularly close attention to the information given to him about the patients that were unable to be alone and required a constant companion.

"Correct you are, Mackey," Benson started, looking straight ahead at his colleague. "Those two boys aren't the most difficult of the patients – although Kyle can be without Stan – but they're also... I guess you could say they're like acting ambassadors to the group. They'll say what others won't or can't, and they're not afraid to rat out Eric Cartman either. That kid has a habit for stirring up mischief where it really isn't needed."

"Trust me, I know all about that, mkay. Stan and Kyle were both friends with Eric as kids, along with Kenny McCormick if I remember correctly." Mackey added. The many times he'd had the four boys called into his office were distant but clear memories of his, there was always something going on – usually Eric Cartman having some hand in it – and it was his job to set the straight. Not that he'd ever been able to accomplish this.

"We'd figured that from what we've picked up amongst the patients. The two boys are basically the leaders of the ward, this at times can be helpful and at others very much not so, but I'm sure you've read up on them already and really who better do we have to correct us on the pasts of these kids than you?" Dr Fester said, standing up from her seat and smoothing out her dress from underneath her lab coat.

"Eager to get going, Amy?" Benson asked, looking up at his associate with a raised eyebrow.

"Well it seems we've got everything in order, I don't see how any more of my input is needed right now. Plus I have three meetings coming up and a shit load more work to do before I can even think about sitting down." Amy explained, gathering her papers together as she rushed to leave. "Benny, you know what to do and will be accompanying Mr Mackey through the process, he seems to know everything he needs to so it should go fine. I'll be in my office if either of you need me, and I'll be expecting a report on how everything progressed by the end of the day."

Dr Fester nodded at both of the men and then left the cafeteria, not waiting to hear any response from either of them. Mr Mackey and Dr Benson then rose from their seats, grabbing their empty styrofoam cups and throwing them into a nearby bin.

"You ready to get to work, Mackey?" Dr Benson asked, handing Mr Mackey his briefcase before picking up his files from the table.

"Now is as good a time as any, I suppose." Mr Mackey sighed, anxious about what was up ahead.

"If it makes you feel any better, Stan and Kyle are two of the more settled ones." Benson added, trying to ease Mr Mackey's nerves.

"I wish it did make me feel better."

* * *

 _Tuesday, May 31_ _st_  
 _8:07am_

Dr Benson and Mr Mackey stood outside of Ward 4C, both were quiet as Benson reread the sheet of paper he'd been handed by Dr Fester. The counsellor was gripping the handle of his briefcase tightly, his knuckles turning white as he did; he was uncomfortable and nervous, and the only thing that seemed to be able to keep him from sprinting away from the hospital was remembering what Dr Benson had said to him yesterday. He was right. He did feel guilty about what had happened to the kids, he felt that maybe if he'd never of left South Park to begin with there was a chance he could have helped them before their lives became this bad. At the same time he was also outraged, for reasons he couldn't deny were a little selfish; because maybe if those around town who'd actually seen them grow up had just decided to help and not let them waste away in a mental facility, maybe then he wouldn't be standing in front of these two terrifying doors awaiting another visit with South Park's rejects.

Mr Mackey tried telling himself that there was most likely nothing he could have done, he wasn't a real doctor, only a school counsellor with limited abilities. He told himself that maybe the people in town had tried and just wanted no more of it, that they'd done all they could and there was nothing else they could do or say. None of it helped, none of what he tried feeding himself worked and the guilt still ate away at him. Dr Benson was right; his life wasn't exactly the ideal picture of happiness and serenity. Helping these kids was the only thing Mr Mackey could see in his life now, and in the future, that would be truly worth the effort and not condemn him to loneliness and seclusion, reminiscing of crazier – yet simpler – times.

"You might not want to take the briefcase with you, just leave it outside the door. It'll still be there when we get out, no one is around to pick it up and gander through your files so it should be safe." Benson informed, Mr Mackey nodded and sat it down on the floor beside the doors, flexing his hands as he prepared himself to go back inside Ward 4C.

"Alright, well as you can see on the paper Amy gave you, we interview each of them in their rooms and work down from there. I'm pretty sure Nurse Selar and Dr Stewart have already been through to secure them, we just have to waltz in there and start. You sure you're ready for this?" Dr Benson asked, still sensing Mr Mackey's unease. "We can wait a few minutes if you need the time."

"No, I think we should just get started, mkay." Mackey breathed, wanting desperately to accept the offer to delay. "If I stop myself now I don't think I'll be able to start at all."

Benson nodded and then opened the doors to Ward 4C. The large classroom section of the ward was deserted, each of the doors in the corridor were closed and it was deathly silent. The two of them approached Room 01 and Dr Benson knocked on the door three times, he swiped is ID card over the lock's scanner and after a few beeps, the door was unlocked and Dr Benson pushed open the heavy, metal door with ease.

Mr Mackey followed Dr Benson inside the room, closing the door behind him quietly. It was small and reminded him somewhat of a dressed up prison cell. There were two beds on opposite sides of the room, the walls were the same light yellow as the rest of the ward and there was a door to on the right side of the room which led to a small bathroom. He noticed that everything was extremely tidy and precise; a small coffee table sat between the beds was organised neatly with two sketchbooks, a variety of crayons and two small foam cups centred on the table. The two beds were made perfectly, pillows and blankets laid symmetrical to the other side of the room; the only thing disturbing the impressive symmetry of the room was the two teenage boys seated side-by-side on the edge of the bed closest to the bathroom.

"Hello, boys, how are you doing today?" Dr Benson asked, taking a seat on the bed opposite the two teenagers.

"Why is Mr Mackey here?" Kyle asked, his voice stern and his eyes focused on the newcomer. He looked his former school counsellor up and down and then turned to Dr Benson, his face blank and unreadable.

As Mr Mackey observed the teenager, he could see that the young Broflovski child had changed even more dramatically than his medical file stated. Kyle's hair was still overly curly, his facial features had matured, he was as skinny as he'd always been and his complexion was very pale, he still looked very much like the ten year old he'd once known – although much older – but he wasn't that carefree, playful child that he'd once been. He hadn't grown into the considerable young man that Mr Mackey had always felt that he would become, he'd not been able to experience the world around him, he'd been changed and twisted by an unknown source.

"He's here to talk to you both, to all of you here." Dr Benson started, he motioned for Mackey to sit beside him and he did. "Is that okay with both of you?"

Kyle looked to Stan and after the other teen's small nod, he turned back to the two older men and nodded.

"Fine."

"So first off, do you both remember Mr Mackey?" Benson inquired, he had a clipboard sitting on his lap and was scribbling every word said in the room onto his notepad.

"Of course we remember, he was our school counsellor! Do you think we're stupid or something?" Kyle shouted, his fists clenched tightly as if he were about to swing at both of them.

"No, we don't think either of you are stupid, it was just a standard question that we had to ask." The tall doctor assured, maintaining eye contact with each of them. "Now, I'm going to let Mr Mackey speak with you, I'll just be here making notes."

Dr Benson nodded at Mr Mackey and then looked back down at his clipboard, prepared to continue his writing. Mackey looked at both Stan and Kyle, he was lost for words and unsure of what to say. He'd had some questions prepared but as he looked at the two patients, it seemed as if every word in his vocabulary had been sucked out of him. Kyle's eyes were drilling holes into his skull, and somewhere deep inside him he could feel the malice in Kyle's empty gaze; it was disturbing him down to the core and he could feel his pulse begin to rise as his mind raced with paranoia and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Mackey, you okay?" Benny whispered as he halted his note-taking.

"Uh, yeah, mkay; I'm fine." Mr Mackey breathed shakily, he looked down into his clenched fists and clasped his hands together in an effort to keep them from trembling. The walls in the room seemed as if they were getting smaller and smaller around them, he could feel his stomach turn and the blood rush from his face as panic began to overwhelm him.

"You don't seem fine." Benny argued, taking notice of the change in the counsellor's complexion and breathing. "I'm going to get you out of here."

"No, no. I just need a moment." He objected, taking in a deep breath and finally ripping his eyes away from Kyle; After a few seconds he felt his heartbeat drop to normal and relaxed his hands into his lap. This time when he looked up, Kyle was smirking and his eyes were lit with amusement and fire.

"How are you, Kyle?" Mr Mackey asked, finally finding his vocabulary coming back to him.

"Is that really how you're going to do this? Pleasantries and soft-spoken questions as you hope to dig yourself further and further inside my mind, trying to find out how I work and why I work?" Kyle snapped angrily, taking Mr Mackey aback. "Why don't we just get straight to the point of why you're here?"

"I'm only here to try and help you, Kyle. I was just asking how you are, if that question offends you so much I won't ask again, mkay?" Mr Mackey said softly, doing his best to try and keep calm and stay focused. After thirty seconds of Kyle's threatening glare burning into his skull, he watched as the ginger's fists relaxed and his rage rapidly seep away from him, leaving a much calmer expression on his face.

"Fine. Ask your pointless questions." Kyle huffed, crossing his arms.

"Mkay, and why do you think they're pointless questions?" He asked, watching both boys closely.

"You all come in here with the same questions. The 'how are you' and 'how do you feel', 'what am I thinking', 'who am I' and all that bullshit. We shouldn't even be here!" Kyle spat, his face reddening rapidly. "Your questions are pointless because you think they're going to help us. We don't need help, we need to go home."

"Why do you think you're here if you don't need any help?"

"Because they're stopping us from getting home. They don't want us going back, they want to torture us! We're all suffering in here, they're forcing drugs on us to convince people we're crazy. They're getting some sort of sick pleasure out of torturing us because they don't wanting us getting back to South Park!"

Kyle stood up, Stan cowering behind him as he backed into the wall, he took a step towards Dr Benson and Mr Mackey. His eyes were blazing with fury as he stood over the both of them, looking down into the counsellor's grave face and uttering a small laugh as he caught the older man's bottom lip tremble slightly. Mr Mackey's heart was racing as he watched in fear as Kyle studied him with focused green eyes; he was waiting for Benson to do something but the doctor was remaining as still as he was.

"Kyle, why don't you go sit down?" Dr Benson said softly, relieving the counsellor's nerves momentarily as the ginger's focus went from him to the doctor.

"Why don't you let us go home?" Kyle hissed.

"You know we can't do that. Please sit down and we'll keep talking." Dr Benson kept his eyes on Kyle's as the scrawny teenager remained in front of him, fists ready at his sides awaiting his anger to finally boil over and pounce onto the much larger man.

"Yeah, keep talking..." Kyle scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Dude, just sit down." A small, deep voice muttered from behind him.

"What?! After everything they've done to us and you just want to-"

"Come on, Kyle, please just sit down." Stan repeated, shifting himself to the edge of the bed and patting the space beside him. "I don't want you to get dragged off again."

Kyle's eyes flickered down to the ground, Mr Mackey could see the fury drain from him rapidly as he turned to his friend. The ginger sat down next to Stan and kept his gaze focused on the ground, his hands folded together neatly in his lap. Stan looked away from Kyle and to the two men sitting across from him, he studied each of them and watched intently as Dr Benson scribbled notes onto his clipboard at an amazing pace. The black-haired boy smirked grimly and looked to the counsellor who was watching him closely, his breathing returned to normal.

"I thought they weren't meant to have sharp objects around me. But," Stan began, his deep voice quiet and eerily calm. "I suppose they think there isn't much I can do with a pen."

"Unfortunately, I think you could find plenty to do with it, Stanley." Mr Mackey said grimly, recognising the deep pain and sadness behind Stan's mask of apathy.

"So, you know how I got here?" The counsellor nodded. "Did you ever see that coming from y'know, when I was a kid?"

"No, mkay, I didn't see any of this." Mr Mackey sighed.

"Do you want to see them?"

"I-I don't know about that, Stan, mkay. I think tha..." His sentence trailed off as Stan pulled up the sleeves of his light blue hospital shirt up to his shoulder, revealing the near-identical mutilation of his arms. His light-olive skin permanently marked with seven long, thick scars that stretched from his wrists to his elbows, his right arm differentiated by the extra, deeper scar that ran horizontal across the others. Mr Mackey winced as he observed the damage to the young teenager's arms, each large, dark pink scar making him feel sick as he wondered how much pain must this boy have been going through inside to be able to withstand inflicting himself with such horrid wounds in the hopes of finding some peace.

"Do they make you uncomfortable?" Stan asked, pulling his sleeves back down.

"It's just such a tragic thing to happen to someone so young." Mr Mackey murmured, looking to Dr Benson and finding the doctor writing away on his notepad with wide, surprised eyes. He then turned backed to Stan and felt his heart sink as he remembered reading through his file, he almost couldn't believe what he'd been reading at the time.

He'd been found unconscious in the woods nearby Stark's Pond by some hunters that had brought him to Hell's Pass Hospital, there'd been a long shard of broken mirror lying beside him, the snow surrounding him was a deep crimson from the amount of blood he'd lost. Soon after his life being saved at the hospital, he'd been admitted to the Park County Mental Facility by his parents and the doctors that had been treating him at the hospital after multiple attempts by Stan to reopen his wounds and finish what he'd begun.

"Why did you do it?" Mr Mackey questioned, watching as Stan's fearful eyes flickered up to his.

"Why does it matter why he did it?" Kyle snapped, no longer staring blankly at the ground but angrily at the counsellor.

"It was just a question, Kyle, mkay?"

"No. No more questions." The ginger snarled, his voice getting louder as he stood up, Kyle's consuming rage visibly flooding back into him. "Get out! Get out now! Get out, get out, get out!"

"I think now is definitely our cue to go, Mackey." Dr Benson whispered into his ear, grabbing the counsellor by the arm as he stood up and slowly backed them towards the door.

"Hey, Benson," Kyle called with a smirk, standing at the ends of the beds with his hands behind his back. "I think you forgot something."

Kyle then sprinted towards the two men, pulling out the doctor's pen from behind his back and stabbing it the side of Mr Mackey's leg in one fast, ferocious plunge. Mr Mackey yelled out in pain as the pen dug into his flesh, he grabbed for his thigh and yelped as it brought on yet another wave of pain. Dr Benson pushed Kyle backwards and quickly opened the door to the room, shoving the counsellor out before him and then slamming the door shut, promptly locking it with his ID card as Kyle began to laugh maniacally from behind the door. He turned to Mr Mackey and saw his leg bleeding heavily, the pen protruding deep from within his thigh. The counsellor was hyperventilating and small tears had escaped his eyes as he leant up against the ball, biting into his bottom lip harshly in an effort to cope with the immense amount of pain emanating from his left leg.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." Benson said, hooking is arm under Mr Mackey's and helping him to his feet. "Come on, let's go get you fixed up."

"What the fuck just happened in there, Benny?" Mr Mackey groaned, wincing with each struggled step they took towards the exit.

"Something new. I'm sorry you got hurt by this, Mackey, but," Benny paused as he entered his code, opening the large-doored exit. He used his free arm to hold one door open as he and the counsellor made their way out. "I think we may have just had a small breakthrough."

"Mkay, well I hope it was worth it because my leg is killing me."

"We'll get you to a nurse and stitch you up, and don't you worry. I'll make sure that doesn't happen again, that was all on me and I'm sorry." Benny apologised, his guilt heavily masking the genuine excitement he was containing over the new development that had just taken place within Ward 4C.

"It's fine, mkay, just get me there fast." Mr Mackey sighed, cringing at the spots of blood he was trailing behind him as they made their way to the infirmary.

His head was aching terribly, his temples thumping in unison with the agonising pain in his leg. All he could see in his mind was Stan's hideous, saddening scars and the pure fury on Kyle's face as he charged towards him ready to stab him with the pen still sticking out of his leg. Mr Mackey's self-control finally crumbled and the tears began to pour slowly and silently from his eyes, wetting his wrinkled cheeks and the clean, white floor as the teardrops fell beside the spots of blood he was leaving with each step. And in his mind, behind Kyle's infuriated face, Stan's horrid scars and the screaming pain from his thigh, Eric Cartman's malicious grin was deepening.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I don't own South Park nor any of the characters from the show. All credit to this fine show goes to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. However, the story idea is mine and I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 _Tuesday, May 31_ _st_  
 _9:15am_

Mr Mackey was sitting alone at the large table centred in the doctor's lounge, his bandaged leg was propped up on one of the chairs beside him and a hot cup of coffee was in between his hands, steaming up his glasses as he awaited Dr Benson's return with Dr Fester. After having his leg stitched back together and bandaged, he was escorted by a nurse to the lounge who then made him the overly bitter coffee that he was avoiding drinking, she informed him that Dr Benson had gone to find Dr Fester and that they'd both be coming to see him soon after a short meeting. This gave him the counsellor the time to sit alone and think about what had just happened, replaying it over in his mind repeatedly as the disbelief settled in his mind and began to realise how real and how serious the situation he was in really was.

He'd read through each file Dr Fester had given him, he knew that Stan and Kyle weren't the worst of the patients there and that was part of what worried him. He'd agreed to stick around and help, he knew that this was all he had to give himself to and he knew it was too late to back out now. But what had helping gotten him so far? Panic attacks, overwhelming anxiety and a fountain pen lodged three inches into his leg!

Mr Mackey replayed the incident again in his head, starting from the moment they'd stepped in the room and ending just after he'd left Ward 4C limping with Dr Benson's arm around him. Benny had said something about a breakthrough when they'd been on their way to the infirmary, but no matter what angle he looked at it from, he just couldn't see what sort of discovery or great insight he'd managed to cause amongst all the madness that had taken place. All he could see was Kyle Broflovski, a once bright student with exemplary skills, screaming at the top of his lungs as Stan Marsh cowered behind him as if Kyle was the only thing keeping the world from tearing his head off of his shoulders.

Just thinking about the ginger and how much had gone wrong caused an intense urge to run away and leave forever to enter his body. All he wanted was to back out of this whole job, leave Colorado and hide in the safety of his small apartment on the other side of the country. The thought to find a cab, the nearest liquor store and his small motel room so he could drink away the memory of the whole day was tempting him, and as each minute passed he found himself more and more willing to pick up and run. Yet, he again found himself finding reasons to justify his staying in the hospital. He was asking himself why he'd agreed to fly all the way from Florida back to Park County, why he'd been willing to help a group of teenagers that were far beyond his ability to aid, and why he still wasn't backing out of this tremendous task even after being stabbed.

"Because they need me apparently..." He whispered to himself, shaking his head slowly. He brought the coffee cup to his mouth and took a sip, cringing at the bitter taste as both Dr Benson and Dr Fester walked in the room, closing the door behind them.

"Bad coffee?" Dr Fester asked as she took a seat at the table, Mr Mackey nodded and place the cup on the table.

"How are you feeling, Mackey? Recovering from our endeavour back there?" Dr Benson questioned softly, eyeing the counsellor's bandaged leg from the other side of the table.

"I'm holding up, mkay, the drugs the nurse gave me for the pain are helping." Mr Mackey mumbled lowly, choosing not to add how tired they'd made him as well and not wanting to discuss his discomfort any further.

"Good, glad to hear it," Benson started with a smile, sitting down at the large table. "Because what happened back there turned out to be a blessing in disguise."

"If that's what you want to call getting stabbed in the leg, mkay. And, honestly, I don't see how I did anything of any help at all. I upset two normally cooperative patients just by asking the wrong questions, mkay, I terrified a suicidal boy by accidentally provoking his friend into a yelling fit!" Mr Mackey slammed his hand on the table as the stress of a day that wasn't even half over ate away at him, Benson's optimism was nothing but another pain to him at that moment.

"I can understand your frustration, I really can. Just trust me on this, you've helped us a huge amount already. I'm truly sorry about your leg, if I'd known that was going to happen I would have tried to stop it..." Benny apologised again, a pang of guilt hitting him hard in the chest. "But, maybe you can at least take some comfort from what's happened in knowing that you've just shown us something we haven't seen in the entire nine months these kids have been here."

"I don't know, it doesn't seem like anything to get any comfort from. Kyle was yelling about you keep them trapped, he's obviously desperate to get home. For a moment I almost believed that you guys really were the bad guys, and that these kids are all just victims of some sort of sick experiment." Mr Mackey sighed deeply, staring down into his lap so he wouldn't have to look at the two doctors. "I know this isn't true; but it's made me think, mkay. I don't know if I can do this, I don't think I'm fit for this job."

"Please, just listen to what we have to say." Dr Fester pleaded gently, her voice quiet and serious.

"I don't know, I'm sorry but this may be too much for me, mkay."

"Look, you know what I said to you yesterday. You and I both know it's true and we both know that if you really had given up that you wouldn't have sat here waiting for us; you would have just gotten up and gone. You haven't done that which means you haven't lost hope for these kids. Just listen to what we have to say and if you're really not willing to keep helping us... Well, I guess you'll be gone before I can finish." Benny said, hoping with all his heart that he'd be able to get through to the counsellor.

"Mkay, fine." Mr Mackey grunted, feeling slightly guilty for the attitude he was giving someone who'd treated him more like a friend that anyone had in a long time.

"First of all, you got Stan to talk. That's huge, Mackey! You read his files, that kid only ever talks through Kyle. Stan hasn't spoken to anyone beside the other patients since he got here, the only way we've ever been able to get anything from him is if he whispers it to Kyle first. He won't even write words down for us! Not only that, he showed you his scars." There was a slight hint of excitement in Dr Benson's words as he spoke and a light in his eyes like a boy with the chance to lecture a stadium of people on his favourite subject.

"Kyle's reaction to this is an amazing discovery as well," Amy continued. "Kyle has been violent in the past and he has had to be confined in the past, but this has only ever happen when he's been separated from Stan. Usually he's very calm, albeit neurotic, but he's sensible and keeps his composure even when he's angry. It's not the first time he's lost his temper when talked to but it is a first for such defensive actions.

"Our theory is that maybe Stan's scars, his repetitive suicide attempts, his reliance on Kyle may be connected to an event that may have scarred those boys – perhaps all fifteen of these kids – in such a traumatic way that they've all repressed it and developed separate, yet in some way entangling with each other's, neuroses. It could be so, with Kyle and Stan, that Kyle may have been responsible to something that happened to Stan which drove him to suicide. Kyle's sensitivity and defensiveness of Stan, especially when the scars were brought into it, may show some signs of guilt."

"And it could be, Mackey," Benny broke in. "That because you're someone from their past, from before this event may have taken place, that you could be able to reach them on a different level than any of us. You were their counsellor and maybe they have a subconscious trust in you from when they were children; if this is true, you may be the key to actually helping these kids recover and develop a proper treatment for them."

"Can you see why what you've done is so huge?" Amy smiled as Mr Mackey turned to look at them. "We've spent the past nine months with basically no progress, all we've been able to do is keep them contained and make sure they don't hurt anyone or themselves. Now, you've come along and we're finally being shown a light at the end of the tunnel for these kids."

"Mkay, but what if you're wrong." Mr Mackey said quietly, processing the doctors' theory. "What if that's not what's going on and I end up with... Eric Cartman! That boy was a menace as a child and after what I've seen so far, I don't like my odds of walking out that room without leaving a trail of blood, mkay."

"We won't let anything like that happen again, every room is free of all dangerous objects and there'll be no more pens or clipboards during these separate meetings." Benny assured, another pang of guilt hitting him. "I'll keep a hidden recorder on me and there'll be no chance of you getting hurt, we'll have nurses standing outside the doors just so that you know if something were to go wrong, it would stopped immediately. Would you at least work with us long enough for us to at least confirm our theory so that we can take it from there."

Mr Mackey sat back in his chair and looked down at his bandaged leg, thinking about everything he'd just been told. He could see that what they were saying sounded like a plausible theory, he could see the logic behind their urgency to keep him around and he knew that he was most likely going to remain here despite his gut telling him to run as far as he could away from everyone in Park County. He reached into his back pocket, bringing out the timetable Amy had given both himself and Dr Benson, and examined the list of names.

 _Kyle Broflovski and Stan Marsh_

 _Wendy Testaburger_

 _Butters Stotch, Token Black and Nichole Tyler_

 _Craig Tucker_

"Who told you to call him Butters?" Mr Mackey asked, keeping his eyes on the paper.

"Kyle made sure to correct us about that shortly after he was admitted." Dr Benson smiled.

"Well, we're already late to our appointment with Miss Testaburger, Doctor, and I left my briefcase outside the ward. Why don't we get today over with so I can go back to my bed and rest my leg, mkay?"

* * *

 _Tuesday, May 31_ _st_  
 _9:45am_

Mr Mackey and Dr Benson were standing outside of Room 02 in silence as the doctor slipped the recorder in the pocket of his lab coat. Mr Mackey was leant against the wall, taking some pressure off his leg as he prepared himself to walk into yet another potentially dangerous situation. There were no extra nurses present, the counsellor didn't like to feel like he was some sort weak coward that needed guards to keep him safe. Yes, he was terrified but that didn't mean he'd lost his dignity; also from what he'd read about Wendy Testaburger, he was mostly sure that he'd leave unharmed. Though maybe more cynical than he already was.

"Alright, so Wendy's not one of the few that need to be paired up so it'll be just her and she isn't really violent. She does share this room with Bebe Stevens, but she's in one of the examination rooms down the hall for a check-up." Benson explained.

"She's one of the patients that goes for regular examinations, isn't she?" Mr Mackey questioned, cringing as he readjusted his bandage.

"She is; it's one of the few things we can do to keep her from hyperventilating her way into a coma. Stevens and two others have some of the worst cases of hypochondria that I've come across, I swear if we'd allow it they'd go for check-ups daily but we managed to keep it limited to a two days a week." Dr Benson answered, reaching into his pocket and turning the recorder on. "Now, I know you've read all the files – Miss Testaburger's included – but I want to just warn you that she can be quite sensitive about what words you use and how you say them. So I'd say in this case just try not to sound condescending, follow her exact instructions when we enter the room and try your best not to upset her... Although with Wendy that's a hard task."

Mr Mackey nodded, feeling the butterflies of anxiety in his stomach begin to fly around rapidly as he stood up straight. Dr Benson knocked on the large door three times, each knock making him feel queasier than the last. He then swiped his ID card over the scanner and following the few beeps, pushed the door open and took one small step inside while subtly motioning Mr Mackey to follow him.

"Wendy, I have a guest with me today. Is it okay if we both come in?" Dr Benson asked, looking into a part of the room Mr Mackey couldn't see. After a few moments of silence, and another advancement in the counsellor's anxiety level, the tall doctor turned around and pulled the counsellor closer into the room.

"Close the door, stand behind it, and do not move." Her voice was quiet but stern as she told the two older men what to do. Wendy was sat cross-legged at the top of her bed, pressed into the corner with her head down and her long black hair completely covering her face.

Mr Mackey and Dr Benson both followed their instructions from the girl sitting across the room, the two of them remaining completely silent as they did. Mr Mackey looked around the dark room, it was almost identical to Stan and Kyle's, although instead of a small coffee table between the two beds there was a small teddy bear seated in the exact middle. He could only just make out the worn, grey bear in the darkness; it had two small, black button eyes that seemed to stare into the distance and there was a set of ten symmetrical stitches down it's midsection as if the bear had been dissected repeatedly and sewn back up.

"State your last names and then sit on the bed opposite to mine, sit up straight and do not use any contractions when you talk." Wendy ordered, keeping her head down as she did.

"Benson." The tall doctor replied before walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge, his posture quickly perfected .

"Mackey." The counsellor stated, promptly following Dr Benson's and joining him on the bed.

"Dr Benson, Mr Mackey, you are both here to interview me, correct?"

"We are." Dr Benson confirmed.

Wendy sat up slowly, pushed her hair out of her face and placed her hands neatly in her lap. She looked straight at Mr Mackey and began to grin wildly. It sent a cold shiver down the large-headed man's spine, she looked as if she were as serial killer that had just chosen her next vulnerable victim. Mr Mackey's mind ran wild with bloodsoaked images of Wendy pulling out a knife and sinking it into his chest, her predtory smile even larger as she soaked her hands in his blood. He regretted letting the doctors talk him into staying and telling himself that he was never really going to leave in the first place.

"Okay then, let the interview begin."

Mr Mackey kept eye-contact with the teenage girl sitting across from him as he gripped his hands together tightly, her icy glare reminded him of the terrifying look he'd been given by Eric Cartman the day before, the face of pure evil staring deep into the darkest depths of his aching mind. He ran his tongue along his dry lips and summoned up the courage to talk, promising himself that this whole ordeal would be over soon. Telling himself that he could do this, he couldn't keep hiding behind his anxiety and self-pity was all he could do to try and stay positive, and while it wasn't working a miracle, it was all he had to stop him from leaving the room in a sprint while cursing how pathetic he was under his breath.

"Mkay, Wendy, first I am going to just ask you a few basic questions and then, if you are okay with it, we will go on from there. How does that sound?" He started, biting his lip as he awaited her reaction.

"Acceptable." Wendy responded, her flat, toneless voice emphasising the disturbing essence of her stare.

"Firstly, how are you feeling today?" Mr Mackey asked, slight relief washing over him that she'd not immediately leapt from the bed and attacked him.

"That depends on what you mean, Mr Mackey." Her grin deepened as she watched his brow furrow in confusion, she could practically taste his fear and it gave her great pleasure to watch him struggle to find the right words.

"W-Well, how are you doing, uh, emotionally... How do you feel inside?" He replied, taking a few quiet, deep breaths as he fought his growing nervousness.

"I have felt many things today. Anger, sadness, intense happiness, loneliness..." Wendy smirked, her words laced with spite as she eyed the counsellor like a starved vulture. "And, of course, my favourite: cold, unforgiving, immense hatred. Why do you ask?"

Mr Mackey felt the blood rush from his face, feeling the strong sting of the words he was certain were directed solely towards him. His chest tightened and he felt as if the room had just dropped to below freezing, he looked to Dr Benson with desperate eyes, wordlessly begging for assistance. The doctor offered no words of comfort, he simply shot his colleague a small, sympathetic glance and continued to sit beside him in silence.

Mr Mackey felt a sudden flash of hatred towards the handsome doctor, he imagined himself leaping onto him and wrapping his small hands around Benson's neck and squeezing until his hands cramped. His fingers twitched with the want – an almost aching need – to harm the irritatingly silent man sitting beside him. He wanted to hurt him, punish him, for not saying anything, for not helping him when he obviously could use it. He was a doctor, wasn't he? Shouldn't he be doing the talking, why was he being so silent, why was he leaving him to do this alone?

"I am interested in the well-being of all of you, mkay." Mr Mackey said, looking back to Wendy as the resentment boiled in his stomach.

"It is an amazing feeling, is it not?" Wendy laughed maliciously, Mackey's feeling of extreme hatred towards Dr Benson slipping away as she did.

"Wh-what, excuse me?" Mr Mackey stammered, panic rising inside of him.

"Hatred." She giggled, lighting up like a child being given the ultimate toy. "It is a simply wonderful feeling. It makes you want to do horrible things, things that to most people are unthinkable... that is unless they too harbour an intense hatred for someone. And enjoy bathing in the warm comfort of the most basic of our emotions. Hatred makes you different; it makes us ourselves. The disgusting, primitive, violent people that we all are deep inside, with blood on our hands and hatred in our veins. It is a beautiful feeling, do you not agree?"

"I.. uh, I cannot say that I do, Wendy." He answered, disturbed by the raven-haired girl's words. "You have obviously put a lot of thought into this."

"Yeah, well, when you too are locked up in a dark room for a year, you will find yourself pondering the greatness of all that you love and admire as well." Wendy laughed.

"You admire hatred?"

"How could I not? It is so powerful, so elegant, and look at how much it has done. Look at history. Hatred built this world, hatred has made this world flourish and one day it will strike us all down like the pests we are." She smirked, moving onto her knees as she watched him closer. "Do you disagree?"

Mr Mackey's heart raced, unsure of what to say. Wendy's eyes were scouring him as he tried to think of what to say, his lip trembled slightly and then after a short, sharp inhale he spoke. "I respect your opinion, but I do disagree."

Wendy jerked backward on the bed, she slid her legs out from underneath her and shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. She leant forward, scowling, her brown eyes watching every move the counsellor made. She watched as he attempted to hide his sweaty palms, and how he bit his lip in an effort to stop the trembling of his lip as he searched his big head for answers he didn't have. Wendy's long, black hair hid the sadistic smile plastered beneath her intimidating scowl, she was thriving off of his fear, his inability to use simple words to calm the beast he was so scared of provoking. He was the perfect prey.

"Wendy, what are you doing?" Dr Benson asked, leaning forward.

"Why the fuck are you not sitting up straight, Benson?!" Wendy roared, shooting to her feet and stepping towards the doctor.

"What were you doing to the counsellor, Wendy?" Dr Benson repeatedly sternly, straightening his posture and holding position as she approached him.

"You are always assuming I am up to something. Why is that, Dr Benson?" Wendy hissed, her face only a few inches away from his as she awaited an answer.

"Because I think you are up to something, and I think you were doing something to the counsellor. What was it?" Benson persisted, refusing to feed Wendy the fear she loved bleeding out of people.

"Both of you. Out." Wendy snarled, backing away from Dr Benson and pointing towards the door. "Get the fuck out of here now!"

"Come on, Mackey, time to go." Benson whispered, taking Mr Mackey's arm and leading him towards the door.

Benson reached for the door, looking behind him to be sure that Wendy wasn't charging towards them like Kyle had earlier. She was still standing beside her bed, but now the creepy, worn bear was held between her two hands; her left hand tight around its neck, the right gripping its head. He then opened the door, pushing the counsellor out before him and frowned as he closed the door, only just hearing her final words.

"You are right though, Dr Benson, I am always up to something. Mr Mackey is just another cog in my machine." Wendy smirked; she then twisted the bears neck and ripped its mauled, grey head from its body.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I don't own South Park nor any of the characters from the show. All credit to this fine show goes to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. However, the story idea is mine and I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 _Tuesday, May 31_ _st_  
 _10:05am_

Mr Mackey sighed and shook his head, he looked to Dr Benson who was pulling out a piece of paper from the same pocket the recorder that had just caught their entire encounter with Wendy was resting. Dr Benson was inspecting the list of remaining patients they were to talk to that day, the counsellor peaked over his shoulder to confirm his memory of the list and nodded when he saw that he was correct. He was relieved to see that their next meeting was with the three catatonic, and harmless, patients of Ward 4C. It was a welcome change to the previous two rooms, he could at least take comfort in knowing that he wouldn't have his face shouted in or his mind messed with by three silent teenagers. Then his mind went back to Wendy, her ravenous grin and disturbed words rang in his head. Neither of them had said a word since exiting the room, they'd simply leant against the wall and stood together in silence, Benson turning off the recorder as soon as he'd locked the door.

"I don't know what just happened in there." Mr Mackey sighed, pressing his hands to his temples as his head pulsed with pain.

"Neither do I." Dr Benson murmured, tucking the folded piece of paper back into his pocket. "But, she did say that you were a cog in her machine. This means that you're part of a plan of hers, you're having a significant impact so far. I think we should keep going."

"Mkay, yeah, we probably should." The counsellor nodded.

"Well, this should be a relief for you, Mackey," Benson grinned, snapping out of his seemingly grim air. "Our next set of interviews are with the catatonics, and they're about as harmful as cotton balls."

"It will be a nice change." Mr Mackey said with a small smile.

"When we had the first group session in here, when we brought them all together for the first time, Kyle and Stan wouldn't stop saying 'They won't talk, they won't talk' over and over. This was after they all sort of clicked together in their big group. The two of them would stand there and point at them until we told them we understood, then they went on to walk around the room and talk to all of the others. That's the first time we had the experience of Kyle and Stan's ambassadorial ways amongst the group." Dr Benson recalled, the two of them stepping towards Room 06. "Anyway, Nichole and Token will write on notepads, mostly repetitive sentences, yes and no, occasionally some random shapes and stars, they haven't really been much help information-wise, but they don't bite. Butters however won't write, won't talk, won't do anything but follow Eric Cartman around, eat his meals and sleep."

"Butters was always a naïve, sorta quiet child in school, mkay, he was also pulled into many of Eric's schemes. He did however have some emotional problems, lashed out at a few kids over some family issue in fourth grade, but overall he was a good student." Mr Mackey said, thinking back to one of his last years in South Park.

"Well, he's just a blank kid right now." Benny said, stopping outside their next door. "But, maybe, thanks to you, we'll get a glimpse of who that innocent kid grew into beyond the silence."

* * *

 _Tuesday, May 31_ _st_  
 _10:13am_

The entry into Room 06, quiet and without the fear of being attacked, was by far the calmest Mr Mackey had felt since first entering the Park County Mental Facility. While he knew there was virtually no chance of him getting attacked or screamed at in this room, he still couldn't push the thoughts of the three mute patients jumping to their feet and speeding towards him, tearing at his skin with their fingernails and teeth as he screamed for help. He watched Dr Benson start the recorder in his pocket as they stepped through the door, and kept his eyes on the doctor until a flash of yellow caught his eye.

Mr Mackey watched as Butters Stotch froze instantly in his place as the two of them made eye-contact, the small blonde stared at the counsellor with big, shocked, blue eyes as he began to wring his hands together. Mr Mackey took note of Butters' nervous fiddling, he could distinctly remember watching this same boy ten years ago, standing in his office with his head down as he wrung his hands together and shook nervously.

"Okay, I'm sure you all know why we're here. Mr Mackey and I are just going to ask you a few questions and then we'll leave you be." Dr Benson began softly, Butters' focus switching from the counsellor to the calm, husky voice of the doctor. "Butters, if you could please take a seat then we'll get started, alright?"

Token and Nichole were already sitting side-by-side on the bed, their fingers entwined as they held each other's hand tightly. They both had large, lined, yellow notepads on their laps and crayons in their free hands. The two of them were both watching Butters as he quickly shuffled over to them, sitting down beside Nichole as Mr Mackey and Dr Benson sat opposite to them.

Mr Mackey scanned the room, another identical yellow-walled, rectangular clone that he had no doubt he'd see more of with the others; he felt as if the pale yellow on each wall would haunt his dreams for years to come. However, unlike the previous rooms there was nothing but the two identical beds within the four walls. Mr Mackey then noticed that this was now the third time that he and the doctor had sat through an interview on the right side of the room, opposite the bathroom and right beside the door. He wondered briefly if Dr Benson had realised the same thing, but brushed it off as the doctor turned to him.

"Go on, Mackey." Dr Benson said, interrupting the counsellor's thoughts and bringing him back to reality.

"Mkay, well, let's start." Mr Mackey said with a nod. "I'm just going to ask a few simple questions, mkay?"

Both Token and Nichole gave a small nods, tapping their notepads with the ends of their crayons. Butters just sat silently, never breaking his wary stare from the counsellor.

"Mkay, first off," Mr Mackey paused, experiencing slight d駛 vu as he realised he was asking the same question for the third time. "How are you feeling today?"

The two men waited patiently in silence as the teens began writing on their notepads. Nichole placed her red crayon down first, holding up her answer in front of her and was then quickly followed by Token as he dropped his blue crayon into his lap. Both answers were identical; written in big, bold letters with only the colours of the crayons differentiating the two.

 **SICK**

"You both feel sick?" Mr Mackey asked curiously, he watched the still blonde out of the side of his eye as he continued to stare. "Does Butters feel sick too?"

Token and Nichole flipped over a page on their pads and both began to write again, and with near-robotic synchronicity, they lifted up the notepads to reveal their once again identical answers.

 **WE ALL DO**

"Mkay, and is it just you three or everyone here?"

 **EVERYONE**

"Where do you feel sick?" Mr Mackey questioned, his stomach turning. Butters' constant gaze was unnerving him, and he was wondering how much longer it would be before the two of them would clam up and refuse to answer him.

 **INSIDE**

"Where inside, do you know?"

Token and Nichole shook their heads, tapping the word repeatedly with their crayons.

"Mkay, well, do you maybe know why you all feel sick?" Mr Mackey knew this question was the wrong one to ask immediately, as the two of them shook their heads profusely and threw their notepads to the ground.

"It's alright, mkay, you don't need to say or write it." He tried to assure them as they continued to shake, their hands still held tightly together. "We don't even need to talk about it, mkay?"

Butters then stood up, no longer looking at Mackey but instead at the two panicked patients beside him. Dr Benson and Mr Mackey rose from their seats instantly as they heard the quiet sound of the short blonde beginning to sob; Benny reached his arm towards Butters who shrank away from him. His crying became louder as he kneeled on the ground, the palms of his hands hiding his eyes as he rocked back and forth. Token and Nichole moved themselves backwards on the bed, huddled close to each other and continued to shake, finally breaking their hold of the other's hand to cover their ears.

"Butters, are you okay?" Mr Mackey asked desperately, his heart pounding in his chest as he panicked over the small teenager. Dr Benson kneeled down by his side and began to quietly talk to him, attempting to calm him down as the counsellor slowly backed away towards the wall.

"Butters, I know you're scared. But nothing is going to happen, everything is going to be okay." Dr Benson reassured in his deep, calming voice. "Trust me, okay? If you need to cry, you can, but you have nothing to fear."

The crying continued lightly and Dr Benson stood up, to look to the counsellor. Mr Mackey was standing against the wall beside the door, looking almost as distraught as the three hysterical teenagers. Dr Benson then walked over to him and took him by the shoulders, he looked the counsellor in the eye and kept his voice low as he spoke.

"Mackey, I need you to get a hold of yourself, okay?" He said firmly, shaking the counsellor."We've still got a job to do. We can fix this; you just have to calm down."

"I-I can't, Benny, I can't do this." Mackey pleaded, his heart racing and his head pounding in unison. "Look what I've done, look what I did to him!"

"Listen to me, if you keep acting like this you're not going to end up helping anyone here, okay? You're not just hurting these patients but yourself too, now listen to me when I say calm the hell down, alright?" Dr Benson asserted, his usual handsome, smiling face now cold and serious.

"I-"

"That wasn't a request, Mackey. Get it together. Now."

"I.. Mkay, I'll try." Mr Mackey answered sheepishly, caving into the doctor who then let go of his shoulders.

"Good." Benson nodded and stepped back. "Now go and try to talk to Butters."

Mr Mackey took a deep breath, trying to gather himself together and find the right words to say. His head was blaring like a concert speaker and there was sweat glistening on the surface of his palms. He then walked back over to the crying teen and knelt down beside him, doing his best to try and push his anxiety aside in an attempt to help one of his former students.

"Butters, I know you don't like to talk, mkay," He started, keeping his eyes on Butters' huddled form. "So you may not be able to tell me what's wrong. But, could you maybe try and tell us what's wrong? Or at least give us some sort of clue?"

The blonde shook his head wildly and continued to rock back and forth, his crying quiet but consistent. Mr Mackey looked around him and then picked up the notepad that Token had thrown onto the ground, he turned over a new page and then grabbed one of the stray crayons from next to the bed.

"How 'bout you try to write it for me, mkay, can you do that?" Mr Mackey tried, hoping that the doctors' theory would prove right and he could potentially get an answer out of the weeping patient.

Butters looked up from his hands, snot and tears streaming down his red face. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were soaked, as he looked to Mr Mackey, the counsellor could see that Butters was absolutely terrified. The small blonde seemed as if whatever scared him into tears was something that petrified him beyond belief. Butters stared at Mr Mackey with frightened eyes, almost as if he were pleading for help – or maybe mercy – with his eyes.

"Even one word, Butters." He begged, pushing the notepad towards him.

Butters was still shaking as he wiped his wet hands on the side of his pants, leaving dark tear-stained marks on his blue pants. He then took the notepad from Mr Mackey and picked up Nichole's discarded red crayon from beside him, then he very slowly began to write while repeatedly looking up to make sure that the counsellor was still there. Dr Benson watched from across the room, stunned by what was happening and making sure to quietly note the proceedings while holding the recorder to his mouth.

Once he was done, Butters handed the notepad back to Mr Mackey and dropped the crayon. He stared at the counsellor with big, sad eyes as he read the paper.

 **MY FAULT**

"Your fault? Mkay, what do you think is your fault?" Mr Mackey questioned sympathetically, offering the notepad and crayon to him again. Butters snatched them both and, just as before, he slowly wrote each letter before giving it back to Mr Mackey.

 **I HELPED HIM**

"Who did you help, Butters, what did he do?"

Butters let out another choked sob and pushed the paper away from him as the counsellor once again held it out to him. He then slid back on the ground and backed into the bed, bringing his knees to his chest and hiding his face in his arms. Mr Mackey inched closer to him, still holding the notepad.

"It's okay, we're not going to let anything happen to you, mkay? I promise you, I'm only here to help, mkay." Mackey looked desperately into his messy blonde hair as he hid his face. "Tell me what happened."

Mr Mackey felt as if the silence was choking the air out of him, Butters just kept still without uttering a word or even flinching to grab the notepad. He felt his stomach twist with disappointment, he could feel how close he'd come to something potentially important and his silence was keeping him from finally making a significant difference.

"Come on, Butters, please!" He begged.

"Mackey, I think we've done what we can in here." Dr Benson said, stepping behind him and resting a hand on his shoulder.

"NO!" Mr Mackey shouted, refusing to believe he was done yet.

"Mackey, let's go right now. I think we've done enough." Dr Benson pulled him back roughly and then guided him towards the door, making sure to keep a distance between the counsellor and the patients.

The counsellor let out a deep sigh, realising there was no point in fighting him. Butters had locked his words away and he wasn't getting any more out of him. Though he was sure that the doctor would be thrilled considering that was the only kind of contact he'd made since his admission, he still couldn't help but feel disappointed that he couldn't get a final answer. He knew he'd been close to something big, he could feel it in his bones, but it was as if Butters had simply turned a switch in his head and all communication shut down and he reverted to his usual silent self. Mr Mackey went to step out the room as Dr Benson opened it but stopped in his place as a sound caught his hear.

"Close the door and let's get moving, Mackey." Benson said, ready to pull the large-headed man away from the door.

"I swear I heard something." Mr Mackey whispered, hushing the doctor as he heard one of the patients' footsteps approaching. He turned around and saw Butters approaching the door, Mr Mackey backed out the door and stood still as Butters halted behind the half-closed metal door. The last thing they saw was the blonde's puffy hair and pink lips moving as the counsellor closed the door, both of them in shock from what they'd just heard.

"I-I can't believe it, he actually said something..." Dr Benson gasped, astonished by such a huge development. He looked to Mr Mackey with big, surprised eyes, unable to believe that he'd just witnessed what he had. He'd been expecting nothing but dead-end answers from Token and Nichole, and even less from Butters, yet Mr Mackey had managed to work a miracle and ushered a single spoken word from their most uncommunicative patient.

"What did he say? I wasn't close enough to understand him." Dr Benson asked, astounded.

"He said..." Mr Mackey's stomach turned as he thought of the boy's name, knowing that anything he was involved in meant trouble for anyone involved. "Eric."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I don't own South Park nor any of the characters from the show. All credit to this fine show goes to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. However, the story idea is mine and I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 _Tuesday, May 31_ _st_  
 _10:35am_

Mr Mackey paced rapidly between Room 06 and Room 05, his head in his hands and his chest tightening as his mind raced through millions of thoughts per second. He kept replaying Butters' soft, almost inaudible whisper over and over in his head, trying to convince himself that he hadn't heard what he had. He'd been hoping since the moment he'd first seen the infamously obnoxious Eric Cartman that he would have nothing to do with what caused such unusual things to happen to these teenagers, but he'd felt it in his gut the entire time. He could practically see it written on the sadistic smile the large brunette was displaying the day before, a malicious warning to the counsellor of how much damage he could do. There was something evil and dark in the eyes of the overweight teenager, and when he'd risen his voice to chant the unusual words to the other patients, Mr Mackey could've sworn there was something threatening, and somewhat familiar, in his nonsensical words. What the counsellor did know for sure, and what was stressing him into his continuous pacing, was knowing that things were only going to get more complicated knowing that infamous troublemaker of South Park was behind all the madness contained within Ward 4C.

Dr Benson was speaking into the recorder, making sure to include every detail of their encounter with Butters that hadn't been captured. The doctor's heart still racing from the shock of hearing his most uncommunicative and unresponsive patient's first words in over nine months. He looked up at the counsellor, switched off the recorder and then tucked it back into his pocket before taking a small step towards him. He could understand Mr Mackey's difficulty and he could see that each of one that patients were having a huge toll on him, their random hysterical fits of anger or tears more than he could handle. But he had faith in him, and he was hoping that maybe through helping these teenagers that Mr Mackey would pave a path to helping himself and that in the end his work at the Park County Mental Facility would prove to have been mutually beneficial.

"How're you holding up, Mackey?" Benson asked softly, thankful to see the pacing stop with his question.

"I.. I'm just confused right now, mkay? When I was living in South Park, a lot of strange things happened. It was something that came on a regular basis, crab people and aliens and such, but this..." Mr Mackey let out a shaky breath, and then looked up at Dr Benson. "This is so dark and personal. This isn't just a matter of rebuilding a town after it's destroyed, mkay, this isn't a team of people wiping up corpses after they've been crushed by a giant robotic lizard. This is trying to repair fifteen fragile minds! Mkay, I really don't see this ending without me damaging them even more than they have been, and with Eric Cartman behind this... I don't know if we can actually help them."

"All the more reason we should do what we can to fix this." Dr Benson smiled warmly, patting Mr Mackey lightly on the shoulder. "We should leave the devastating events to the town, not the teenagers."

"You don't understand though, mkay, this is Eric Cartman. This kid was responsible for half the shit that happened in South Park, and he usually got away with it too."

"Look, I understand your scepticism and I know that today has already been huge for you, but you gotta trust me. We can help these kids, if not by trying to destroy this from the root problem then by alternative therapies that may work on them, and there won't be any Eric Cartman, South Park or anxious counsellor that can stop us. You can do this, Mackey, we need your help and we need you to stick with it." Benny encouraged, finding it easier to gain the counsellor's trust. "Listen, we've only got one more patient to see today and then we meet with Amy, we'll talk it over briefly and then you can go home for the day. Alright?"

"Mkay..." Mr Mackey muttered, knowing that he'd never be able to talk himself out of this place with the handsome doctor around. "Who is next, by the way?"

"Craig Tucker." Benny sighed, the reluctance in his voice evident.

"I'm guessing he's not your favourite patient, mkay."

"Craig is one of the more difficult patients, is other personalities aren't much better either." Dr Benson frowned as he looked down at his watch. "Well, Nurse Selar and Nurse Woodbury will be returning with the five patients that had check-ups in an hour so we have a few minutes to catch our breath before we go and see him."

"Maybe you could fill me in a bit more of some of his different personalities, mkay, there were only very brief descriptions of the other three. It might help if I had more personal view of each of them, the mini-biographies of three people with the same voice didn't exactly give me a good impression of each of the personalities, mkay. What should I expect from them?" Mr Mackey questioned, hoping that with more preparation than the previous three sessions that he might be able to cope better during his time with Craig.

"Well, there's Danny, Phillip and the personality they call 'The Other'. Craig isn't aware of The Other and whenever it's been mentioned, Craig will slip into either Danny or Phillip whom will both proceed to lecture us on mentioning The Other to him. Danny will attack us, verbally and/or physically, he's fiercely protective over Craig and if something happens that could upset Craig, Danny usually appears seeing red and ready to fight. He and Phillip aren't aware of each other, only of Craig and The Other – both of which Phillip is terrified of. He's a very docile personality, doesn't say much but at least when he's active nobody gets hurt."

"Mkay, and what's The Other like?" Mr Mackey asked.

"We don't entirely know. Only one person has ever been present when The Other has appeared and she quit her job the same day. Just walked out the room without a word, left the facility and never came back. Next thing we know, she's abandoned her home and family – apparently she never even returned home – and has been missing since." Benny explained gravely, avoiding Mr Mackey's eyes as he spoke.

"Are you serious?" The counsellor gaped.

"Unfortunately, yes." Benny sighed. "But, the point is we don't know what The Other is like, just that we're probably better off not knowing. We've had warnings from Danny and Phillip saying that it's unwise to speak of it, that every time we say something about it that we're damning Craig to some sort of torture as well as ourselves. Lots of vague and ominous sort of stuff, enough of it backed-up by what happened with that nurse for us to keep away from the topic of The Other."

"That's unbelievable..." Mr Mackey shook his head, astonished by the new information. "It's incredible to think anything happening here is even possible, mkay."

"Unfortunately, it is happening and so far we've been stumped as to how to treat these kids. Medication works as well as dirt and every other form of therapy and treatment we've tried is just as ineffective. While what we've seen so far with your presence hasn't been as positive as you may have hoped, it's still a breakthrough so maybe you're the only hope for them."

Mr Mackey nodded slowly, reaching down to his leg and lightly tracing the bandage beneath his pants with his finger. He looked at the small lump protruding from his pants, Kyle's red face as he charged at him with the pen frozen in his mind. The counsellor couldn't help but wonder what else he had coming for him, he knew that Benny would do all he could stop any of the patients trying to attack him again but something in his gut told him that the doctor's best wouldn't be good enough when it came to Ward 4C. He took a deep breath and looked up to Dr Benson with a warm smile, doing his best to push his anxiety and underlying dread to the back of his mind with the little success. His tall companion smiled back and gave him a pat of the back, the two of them sharing a small moment of silent comfort before stepping into Craig's domain, both knowing that their next visit with yet another patient of this incredulous ward was bound to be an eventful one.

"I want you to know that I appreciate your patience, Benny, mkay? I know I've been a bit-"

"Don't worry about it, Mackey, I'm just glad you haven't given up on these kids." Benny grinned, his handsome face lit with warm kindness. "You ready for this?"

Mr Mackey nodded and the two men made their way to Room 03.

* * *

 _Tuesday, May 31_ _st_  
 _10:42am_

When Mr Mackey and Dr Benson first entered Room 03, the first thing the two men noticed was that their patient was nowhere to be seen. The fleeting look of panic on Benson's face was enough to begin a whirlwind of paranoid thoughts to run through Mr Mackey's mind, he felt the palms of his hands begin to sweat and it seemed as if the four walls trapping them within the small room were closing in around him at an alarming speed. Seconds seemed like minutes to the anxiety-ridden counsellor, and with every passing one he could tell that his colleague was beginning to feel the stress of the situation as well.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?"

Mackey and Benson both turned to see Craig standing in front of the bathroom door frowning deeply, wearing nothing but his underwear with his light blue pants slung over his shoulder. The counsellor's stomach turned as the dark-haired teenager glared at them, his gaze almost as unsettling as the spiteful tone in his voice. The counsellor noticed the bathroom door was closed, just as it had been when they'd entered, and began to wonder if Benny had heard it open as he replayed their entrance into the room without any memory of any sound but his own breathing and the pounding of his heart in his chest.

"We're here for your interview, Craig, you know that." Dr Benson said softly.

"Always talking about Craig, aren't you?" The half-naked teenager snapped, tossing his pants to the side. "Never want to talk to Danny, do you, Benson? Always Craig, Craig, Craig…"

Mr Mackey gulped nervously as Dr Benson shot him a concerned look before turning back to look at the boy that had been infamously known amongst the staff of South Park Elementary for his love of flipping the bird, his body mind now controlled by a personality that used Craig's body to attack nurses, doctors and anybody unlucky enough to make him angry.

"Danny, would you mind taking a seat? I'm sure Mr Mackey would be fine speaking with you until Craig can." Benson said calmly, doing his best to not upset one of his most difficult patients.

"Take a seat, take a fucking seat he says. You want to tell me to do more shit now, Benny-boy? Shall I spin in circles for you, shall I take you on a fucking ride through the snowy mountains and get on my knees to gobble your cock too, huh?!" He yelled, clenching his fists as his face began to redden.

"Now, Danny, you kno-"

"Don't you 'now, Danny, you know' me, old man." He spat, the fury in his eyes almost burning holes through the doctor's head.

"I think maybe you should just have a seat, Danny, mkay? We're only here to talk." Mr Mackey interrupted, unsure of where his words came from. The fear inside of him was intensified as he spoke, and even more so as the young teenager turned to him, and he began to wish he'd just remained silent and virtually invisible.

"And why should I listen to you, you lanky little freak?"

"Because you're here to talk to me, not Dr Benson, mkay? So, why don't we sit down and just pretend that the doctor isn't here." Mr Mackey tensed up as he watched Craig move, he was prepared for an attack, but found himself surprised as he sat on the bed he was standing beside and crossed his arms, staring daggers at the doctor once again.

Mackey took a deep breath and nodded at Dr Benson who was in shock that the counsellor had been listened to at all, they then he sat down on the bed opposite the enraged young man and Mr Mackey searched his mind for something to say.

"No, you're going to sit here, Mackey." Danny stated flatly, using Craig's arm to pat the space next to him.

"Are you sure, mkay? I can still talk to you from here y-"

"Sit. Here."

Mr Mackey rose to his feet promptly, his hands shaking somewhat as he sat beside Craig. He made sure to keep a bit of distance between them and placed his hands in lap, turning to look at the long-limbed teenager. Dr Benson remained on the other bed, his face calm and still despite Danny's continuous fiery glare, the counsellor couldn't see a hint of fear in the doctor's composure and felt a pit of envy swirl in his stomach as he wished to be as at peace with the situation as Benny was.

"So, Danny," Mr Mackey hesitated, trying to halt the wavering panic in his voice. "How are you today?"

"What kind of stupid fucking question is that? Are you really here to ask me questions like 'how are you' and 'how was your day' and 'what do you feel inside'? Because if you are we may as well just stop this fucking interview right now, you're wasting my time." Craig turned away from Mackey, crossing his arms and aiming his burning gaze to the wall.

"Mkay, we can talk about something else if you'd prefer?" When Danny said nothing, Mackey tried to think of something else to say. He wondered if bringing Eric Cartman into the conversation was something worth risking, but as he continued to think of an alternate route he found himself continuously coming up blank. He wasn't trained for situations like this, he wasn't prepared for such a difficult patient and no amount of research would ever prepare him, but he felt as if Butters' small whisper of Eric's name was something significant and that mentioning him would be worth a shot.

"Danny, I was wondering if you know someone, a… friend of mine." Mr Mackey began, feeling slightly sick from the though of calling someone like Eric a friend.

"Who?" Danny asked, moving around to look at Mackey this time with a raised eyebrow.

"His name is Eric Cartman."

Craig's face went white and his body limp, Mr Mackey gasped as he fell backwards on top of him. Dr Benson stood up, stepping towards them, but before he could get close enough to check if he was okay, the teenager sprung up and looked at the two adults surrounding him as if he'd just woken up from a coma and was deeply confused about his whereabouts.

"What the fuck is going on here?" He asked, moving himself away from them. "What's Mackey doing here, Benson?"

"Craig?" Dr Benson asked hesitantly.

"No, I'm the Easter fucking Bunny." Craig sneered sarcastically.

"He's all yours, Mackey." Benson sighed, returning to his seat at the edge of the other bed.

"Alright, Craig-"

"Can you move?" Craig spat, looking at Mr Mackey as if he were some pervert. "What are you doing so close to me anyway?"

"Danny asked me to-"

"Who's Danny?"

"Nevermind." Mr Mackey shook his head, standing up and switching over to the other bed to sit. "I'm just here to talk to you, Craig, mkay?"

"Why?" Craig asked, sounding a little less angry now that he'd moved.

"I just want to know more about you, mkay, I want to see if there's something I can do to help you and the others, mkay?" Mackey said calmly, feeling his headache intensify more and more by the minute.

"You think _you_ can help us?" Craig laughed, stunning Mr Mackey. "You guys must be getting real desperate, Benson."

"You're not here to talk to Dr Benson, Craig, mkay. If you've got something to say, I'd prefer you said it to me, mkay?" The counsellor said, the confidence in his voice felt unfounded but he knew that if he was going to get any respect from this boy, it was his only choice.

"Okay, what do you wanna talk about then, Mackey?" Craig smirked, reaching towards the end of his bed and grabbing his pants, putting them on as Mr Mackey spoke.

"Well, what do you get up to here, Craig?" He tried, hoping it was the right thing to say.

"Two beds, one bathroom, thirteen crazy neighbours. There's not much to do with that really, you know they give us crayons, right? Like we're too mental for pencils." Craig hissed towards Benson, rolling his eyes as the doctor remained still in his seat. "I bet they'd make the paper blunt if they could."

"So you know why you're here?"

"Yeah, they think I'm crazy." He shook his head and stood up. "I swear, you get caught up in just one of those retards' schemes once, and you're bound to them for life."

"Whose schemes are you talking about?" Mr Mackey inquired, feeling his heart rate begin to slow down again as he became more sure that Craig wasn't going to attack him.

"You know who, Mackey; the star troublemakers of the whole school! Four boys, no respect for the rules and a even less for the people they get involved in their bullshit."

"Are you talking about-"

"Don't say their names!" Craig shouted, approaching Mr Mackey slowly, eyes burning with spite. "I don't ever want to hear their names."

"It's alright, mkay, I won't say anything." Mackey responded quickly, his arms raised and ready to defend himself. Craig sat down on the bed again, letting out a deep breath.

"It's bad enough having to be locked up with those freaks…"

"Did they have something to do with why you're all in here?" Mr Mackey asked, his heart racing once again.

"They have everything to do with anything that goes wrong. Take my advice: stay away from them at all costs." Craig answered sternly, lying back on his bed and closing his eyes.

"I'll remember you said that." He mumbled, feeling a sharp pain in his temples make his eyes water.

"Good. Now leave."

"I have a few more questions for you first, mkay?" Mr Mackey began, watching Craig clench his fists. "I won't be too long, I just need to ask a little more from you, mkay."

"What about leave don't you understand, you big-headed idiot?" The dark-haired teen seethed.

"I understand that I have a job to do, Craig, and I intend to do it."

Mr Mackey's heart was racing as Craig sat up again, his long legs stretched across the bed as he leant against the wall. He was watching Mackey through suspicious, spiteful eyes and remained quiet as he awaited his ex-counsellor's next words, noting the tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow and the slight tremor in his hands.

"Well, speak up!" Craig barked.

"Uh, yes, mkay. Now," Mr Mackey froze mid-sentence as an idea occurred to him. He felt his chest tighten as he considered asking a question he felt might cause an outburst he wouldn't be prepared for. He reassured himself, noting how his refusal to back down so far had been working in his favour, and mustered up what little courage he had then continued. "Do you know why you feel sick, Craig?"

"Yes." Craig muttered quietly, avoiding eye-contact with both men.

"Has it got anything to do with Eri-"

"What did I tell you about saying their names?!" Craig roared, jumping to his feet and standing over the counsellor with clenched fists and eyes of fury.

"You need to step back right now, Craig." Dr Benson said firmly, the authoritative tone in his voice failing to intimidate the teen.

"Why don't you two just get the fuck out then? Get out or let me go, Benson, or else in less than a minute one or both of you will be leaving without an ear." Craig threatened, taking a small step backwards and crossing his arms as his chest heaved with building rage.

Mr Mackey turned to Dr Benson whom was already standing up, keeping his eyes focussed on Craig. Benny then nodded towards him and Mackey stood up, somewhat relieved that he'd managed to go through the entire interview without an injury or causing an outburst that ended in tears or restraints. As the two elder men exited the room, Craig raced across the room and stopped at the door, Mr Mackey turned around silently and before he could open his mouth Craig grabbed his arm and sunk his teeth into the side of his hand.

Mr Mackey screamed and Dr Benson immediately pushed Craig back, closing the door completely behind them as Mackey cradled his bleeding hand, tears springing from his eyes.

"That was from Danny!" Craig screamed from the other side of the door, maniacal laughter following as he slammed his fists over and over into the door. "Come back soon, Mackey, this was fun!"

"Come on, let's get you bandaged up." Benson said, taking a look at the blood seeping from the wound shaped like Craig's crooked teeth.

"What the fuck was that about?" Mr Mackey cried, catching the blood in his other hand as he and Dr Benson headed towards the exit.

"I'm so sorry, Mackey, if I'd known that was gonna happen…" Dr Benson trailed off, unsure of what to say as the guilt overwhelmed him.

"I didn't think I'd done anything wrong, everything was going so well. What the fuck just happened, Benny?!"

"You just never know with Craig, don't dwell on it, I've been asking myself the same question since I met him." Benson said grimly, opening the doors of the ward and following Mr Mackey out. "He did the same thing to me, I'd got a scar on my ankle from him biting me."

"Then why do you keep trying with him?" Mr Mackey asked, surprised by the doctor's confession.

"He's my patient, I can't just give up on him, too many people already have and I won't be one of them."

Mr Mackey looked down at his hand, the sounds of their shoes on the shiny floors the only thing to be heard as they approached the infirmary. He admired Dr Benson's dedication to his patients and he wondered if he would be able to be the same, deep down he knew that he couldn't and that's exactly why he was going to go back and not give up on the patients of Ward 4C. He was going to prove to himself that he could do something worthwhile and he wasn't going to let Dr Benson down, he wasn't going to run away again.


	8. Notice to Readers

_Hello there to the readers of Ward 4C!_

 _Firstly, I'd like to thank you for reading and I hope that so far everyone has enjoyed the story. Secondly, I want to apologise for leaving it unfinished for so long and some of the admittedly clunky ways I may have piece everything together so far. I would like to let you know that I've been in the process of editing and fixing the story, making it more smooth and hopefully a much more intriguing read._

 _I plan on replacing the already uploaded chapters with the new, edited versions very soon and return to posting new chapters for your enjoyment. Please feel free to leave any reviews on how you think they story could be improved or anything that you think seems a little off, I welcome constructive criticism and the chance to improve my writing._

 _Stay tuned for the return of Ward 4C, I hope to supplying you with new reading material within a matter of weeks!_

 _Thank you again for reading,_

 _RoadToBrewie_


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